Spark
by Need2Scream
Summary: "Chase you deep into the unknown. In my dark, in my dark, you're the Spark."/ "Roam with me, come down to where all of the others fell. Get lost, in the dark to find yourself. Just remember what I said, 'cause it isn't over yet."/SEQUEL to Where the Lonely Ones Roam
1. Chapter 1

_There's a weight in my heart_

 _Could you be my alchemist_

 _Heavy metals in the dark_

 _Could you make some sense of it?_

 _There's a weight on my soul_

 _Aching for a golden kiss_

 _With a love I can't control_

 _With a love I can't resist_

 _I need a quick fix_

 _I don't wanna feel this_

 _Come into my arms_

 _Make everything all right_

 _Chase you deep into the unknown_

 _In the dark_

 _In the dark_

 _You're the spark_

 _Spark~Digital Daggers_

 **oOo**

Jazz's fingers twitched.

The movement was small, but Ratchet's tired optics caught it. A foot twitched and then his whole leg. Rubbing his face Ratchet approached the recharging mech with care. None of them ever knew how Jazz would wake from his nightmares. He'd already told First Aid he wasn't to even attempt it unless a senior medic or Solaris was with him. Jazz's breath left him in a hot gust and his hand twitched again. A snarl twitched his lip and he curled up a bit more, protecting his vulnerable abdere from phantom assailants.

"Jazz," Ratchet said softly. He didn't touch him. Solaris was the only one fast enough to avoid knives and claws. "Jazz, you're onboard the _Ark_. You're safe." He kept his voice soft, soothing. Jazz could recognize his voice even in recharge. It was usually enough to pull him out of the nightmare enough he could wake up on his own. "Jazz, you're in recharge Jazz. No one is going to hurt you." Jazz's body flinched hard enough his claws skittered across the berth. Optics still foggy with nightmare finally fluttered open. He lifted his head still fighting to leave whatever horrors stalked his mind. "Jazz," Ratchet said again, keeping his voice soft. He still kept his distance as Jazz struggled to separate reality from memory.

"Ratchet?" he whispered in a rough voice. Exhaustion marked every line of Jazz's frame. Ratchet didn't think anyone would recognize him. If he was of a mind to let anyone see the battered Polyhexian, which he was not. The crew could grumble all they Pit well pleased, Jazz wasn't himself and Ratchet wasn't going to add the stress of visitors to the mech. The wound in his chest wasn't healing as fast as it should be and continued to leave the normally peppy Polyhexian tired from pain. The nightmares that refused to give him peace for even a joor sapped what little energy food gave him. Ratchet stepped closer and pressed the back of his hand against Jazz's forehead. The fever that came and went as his body struggled to heal was coming back.

The frigid temperature of the An'Shar settlement was—somehow—keeping Prowl stable, but the cold was killing for Polyhexians. No matter how much Jazz wanted to stay with Prowl, he couldn't. Even the healthy Polyhexians; Solaris, Envy, and Plunder had spent an entire orn in the washracks soaking in steaming water to shake off the effects of the cold. Jazz was sparkling weak and healing.

"Are you thirsty, Jazz?" Ratchet asked already reaching for a nearby canister. Jazz nodded slowly as if the motion took too much strength. And it very well might have. Since they'd brought him down from the frigid mountain he had hardly eaten and Ratchet didn't think he recharged more than a few breems before the nightmares pounced on him. Water though, he always accepted so Ratchet's worry hovered just below the redline. Jazz drank three cups and then lay down again, optics rolling back a little as exhaustion forced him under once more. Ratchet stayed with him watching him with optics and scanners.

Five breems passed and he dared to hope Jazz's mind had fully succumbed to his battered body and he wouldn't be troubled by nightmares for a joor. He let tension bleed from his shoulders as Jazz's intakes stayed slow and steady and his body remained still. He took three silent steps back from the berth so whatever latent sensors Jazz had wouldn't interpret his presence as a threat. Two more breems passed and Ratchet took his first easy breath in a septorn.

Jazz's fingers twitched.

Ratchet almost threw the cup and bit back a scream and a growl. Tilting his head back he forced himself to breathe slowly. Sudden noise wouldn't help the situation at all. If Jazz woke up ready to fight someone would get hurt. Ratchet purposefully set the cup down before the temptation to rage got the better of him. Rubbing his face with both hands he curled his fingers and dragged them down his face. Jazz made a quiet sound, a rare moment when remembered pain and fear couldn't be expressed by the sporadic movement of his body.

"Jazz." Ratchet's voice broke a little on those four letters. "Jazz, wake up. You're onboard the _Ark_ , you're safe." Jazz's head twitched like he was trying to shake off the sound. His claws scraped against the berth. "Jazz, you're in recharge. You're safe, no one is going to hurt you." Jazz made another small sound and then gasped. His optics fluttered open and his breaths became ragged, as if he'd been running. He rolled partway onto his back and then curled on his side again. Optics so dark they were almost black struggled to stay open. "Jazz," Ratchet said softly. "Wake up, you were having a nightmare."

"Ratchet?"

Ratchet's scanners picked up the miniscule rise of Jazz's temperature. It was a slow climb, but he still needed to get a few ice packs ready. Once it picked up steam it spiked dangerously and they needed to be ready to get it down quickly. "Are you thirsty, Jazz?"

The Polyhexian nodded once and forced himself to sit up. Ratchet picked up the cup again, fingers denting the thin metal. Jazz only drank one cup and dropped down strutless, optics rolling back. His breathing stayed a little rough, but regular. Ratchet put the cup down and crossed his arms watching the Polyhexian.

Jazz's fingers twitched.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** *Confetti cannon* Here it is!

If you thought Jazz angst was over, I've got some terrible news for you. Or maybe it's great news; I'm not judging.

Anyway, strap in because the sequel has launched! Thank you for Reading/Reviewing/Following/Favoriting!


	2. Chapter 2

Transcript #627

Optimus

Session 134

I'm sorry to wake you, Smokescreen.

Optimus, please, I'm here to help no matter the time. Are you still having trouble recharging?

—2.3 breems silence—

No more than usual, I suppose. I'm just…I'm worried—soft laughter—I'm always worried, but I'm worried about Jazz and Prowl. All of this…it seems like it's gotten…too big. I feel like everything I do is wrong.

I understand, Optimus. We can't change the past, we can't will "What Ifs" into existence. Have you tried making a list? Like we've talked about before, you write down the action and the decision that followed. Sometimes it's easier to untangle our thoughts when we can actually see them.

—3.1 breems silence—

No.

—2 breems silence—

—inaudible—

Afraid of what, Optimus?

—5.5 breems silence—

That I'll see how wrong we all were.

—End Session—

All commanding officers have been conflicted over the series of events following Prowl's resignation. Jazz's injuries and slow recovery seem to be adding to the guilt that settled in after Magnus assumed Second-In-Command duties.


	3. Chapter 3

_I know it and feel it_

 _Just as well as you do, honey_

 _It's not our fault_

 _If Death's in love with us_

 _It's not our fault_

 _If the Reaper holds our hearts_

 _Death is in Love with Us~HIM_

 **oOo**

Red Alert glided past others in the halls, silent and staying close to the wall. If anyone saw him, the angry scowl on his face dissuaded them from asking what he was up to. As far as anyone knew the Twins hadn't caused any trouble since the battle, but Red Alert could be on his way to intercept trouble.

Striding into the hangar he stopped at the mag lift but didn't press the button, scowl deepening. A few seconds later the lift chimed softly and the door slid open revealing a battered Praxian with torn silver wings. The Praxian slumped against the wall and didn't move at first. When his dark optics finally opened there was no surprise in them when he saw Red Alert standing in front of him glowering. "Kokoro," he said softly.

"Idiot," Red Alert snapped. He stepped in to help Prowl out of the lift. The Praxian's legs didn't hold him for a second and Red Alert staggered under his surprising weight. Prowl found his footing but didn't try to stand on his own. Red Alert's fingers brushed the armor along his abdomen. "It's a miracle you haven't started bleeding out," he said, a growl still apparent in his voice. He hadn't been looking for Prowl, it was his own twitchy brand of luck that he'd caught the Praxian on the external thermal scans. Plus the fact that Prowl was moving only a quarter his usual speed.

Prowl slid his arm around Red Alert's waist and a wing slid over his shoulders. "I'm sorry to worry you, Kokoro," he said softly, pain and exhaustion rasping his voice. "Is Bluestreak all right?" he asked as they limped slowly to the door. Red Alert sent a message to Ratchet and flinched back a step when the enraged medic returned the message. Prowl's laugh was short but warm with humor. "Shall we stop and wait for Ratchet."

Red Alert glowered at him again. "As if that will save you. Or me." He couldn't believe _Prowl_ of all mechs would be stupid enough to trek down a mountain while his spark was still one wrong breath away from flickering out. "Bluestreak is recovering," he added gruffly because of course _Prowl_ would be the mech to trek down a mountain while his spark was still one wrong breath away from flickering out because he was worried about someone else. He made Prowl lean against the wall next to the door leading into the ship. Prowl's short choppy breaths came hard and pain paled his dark optics sky blue. Red Alert stayed close to him, head on his shoulder and arm around his waist. He didn't want to admit he felt better having Prowl's warm frame against his. It would only encourage the stupid glitch. But he did feel better. The ground felt solid once more and the strange off balance feeling he'd had since Prowl initially resigned faded away. Sighing he turned his face into Prowl's neck and let the calm quiet of the hangar seep into him.

A few breems later, Ratchet announced his presence with a roaring curse and a wrench denting something. Farther off, footsteps started running in the opposite direction. Red Alert sighed deeply and lifted his head. "He hasn't recharged since they brought Jazz down. I don't know what's wrong with him, but whatever it is has Ratchet wound tighter than the engines." Prowl's optics flickered open and he nodded but didn't seem surprised by the news.

 _Volcanic_ would be a polite way of describing Ratchet's temper. He stalked into the hangar, fins fully raised and optics speckled with red. _"What—"_ his roar cut off abruptly when Red Alert startled and snapped his head down. He knew Ratchet was going to be loud, but it was one thing to think it and one thing to hear it. He didn't like loud noises to begin with and then there were still repairs being done to the ship and Shockwave was loose in Praxus and now Prowl had _stupidly_ come all the way to the ship when he was so badly injured. His stress levels were close to redlining. Horns leveled at the medic, the only thing that kept him from a quick charge was Prowl's weight holding him back. He could throw the Praxian off easily in his state, but he would never do anything to hurt Prowl.

All at once Ratchet's supernova fury sucked back in so fast Red Alert thought he should feel a pressure change. "Red Alert," he said in a much quieter, calmer, voice, "I'm not going to hurt him. _Yet_." The fury couldn't quite be contained, but Red Alert knew why he was mad. He could handle Ratchet's anger when it was quiet, it was just that bombastic side of it that undid him. Lifting his head he didn't move away from Prowl. Prowl's long fingers stroked the back of his neck and Red Alert sighed again, letting his shoulders slump. Ratchet was a frighteningly good actor, while his optics were still speckled red he said in that same soft voice, "Prowl, you need to be in the med bay before you wind up in the morgue."

Prowl nodded and with a soft sound of pain pushed away from the wall. Ratchet reached out and caught him before he could stumble again, Red Alert had his other side. Without asking, Ratchet hoisted the Praxian off the floor, careful of his damaged wings. Prowl made a low sound in his chest and his optics narrowed. "I am not a sparkling."

"Shut it," Ratchet hissed. Red Alert didn't want to go to the med bay, he'd spent enough time there the last few septorns recovering from his prison stay.

Prowl didn't push Ratchet's temper any more, which Red Alert was thankful for. The medic looked like he was one wrong comment away from screaming again and Red Alert didn't have anything to hold him back. "Kokoro, have you eaten this orn?" Prowl asked, optics far too dark and working hard to focus.

Red Alert snorted but…he had forgotten to get breakfast…and lunch…and maybe he didn't eat the orn before. Sometimes he got too busy. He didn't want Prowl to worry about him while he was so injured. "I'll get something to eat if you recharge." He followed Ratchet out of the hangar.

"Necessities for function are not up for negotiation," Ratchet bit out. "Red Alert go eat something and Prowl, shut your Primus cursed mouth and go into recharge." Prowl made a low irritated sound but his optics were already closed. Red Alert followed until they reached a branch in the hall. He continued straight and Ratchet turned left. He would get something to eat and then maybe recharge himself. He couldn't remember if he'd done that in two or three orns either. When he woke up, he'd make himself go down to the med bay and see Prowl.

First Aid walked into the rec room leading Ratchet. It was probably the closest anyone ever came to dragging Ratchet anywhere. The little mech was something else entirely. Ratchet had been nothing but a rumor since they brought Jazz down the mountain. That's how they all knew it was bad. But seeing First Aid with a firm grip on Ratchet's hand—not quite pulling—leading him to a couch to sit so they could drink their rations made Sunstreaker breathe a little easier. Jazz always seemed to be in bad shape, but if Ratchet had been coaxed out of the med bay then maybe he was getting better. The medic still looked like he was going to down his ration and bolt back to the bay, which probably the reason why First had had coaxed him into the rec room. He was hoping someone—Bluestreak—would distract Ratchet for an extra five breems and get him to loosen up. The medic was always wound a half turn too tight.

Sideswipe bumped his shoulder and through their bond he felt a faint questioning pulse surrounding a quick image of the little statues he'd picked up from the marketplace. Prowl said Ratchet would know more about them, but he hadn't had a chance to ask him. Sending a happy affirmative to his twin they both stood at the same time and slipped out of the room. They'd have to get to their quarters quick and get back in case First Aid couldn't keep Ratchet distracted.

The little statues were lined up on a shelf near the little closet he used as a painting room. "Think he'll go through all of them?" he asked Sideswipe. He didn't really have to talk out loud, but he tried to stay in the habit of doing it. Mechs always thought they were up to something when they were quiet. Which, to be honest, was usually true, but sometimes talking out loud was too much work.

Sideswipe wrinkled his nasal ridge. "If we take 'em all he might just tell us their names and what they mean. Let's just pick one. First Aid'll drag him outta the bay again eventually." And then they could help keep him out for a joor while he told them about the statue. That was a good plan. Now they had to figure out which one to take first. Sideswipe was keen on the femme with the snake but Sunstreaker was more interested in the young femme with the sword and blanket. And, since they were his statues, that's the one he picked. Sideswipe rolled his optics but followed him out of the room.

Ratchet was still on the couch, First Aid next to him giggling at something Bumblebee was saying. The medic watched the two juveniles not smiling, but the angry stress lines on his face were beginning to fade. Sideswipe dodged around Sunstreaker and popped down on Ratchet's other side, earning a scowl from the older mech and a growl from Sunstreaker. His glitchy brother didn't do anything but give them both a bright smile.

Sunstreaker pulled up a chair and kicked his brother solidly in the shin when he sat down. Before he could retaliate, Ratchet said, "What?" with his usual exasperation. First Aid looked interested as well and Sunstreaker bared his teeth at both of them when he felt two scans run over his frame.

"Honestly, Ratchet, we're not _always_ slagged up," Sideswipe grumbled.

Sunstreaker didn't do small talk as well as his brother. He supposed it was from too many vorns locked in cages snarling and screaming instead of using words. But whatever. Ratchet didn't have patience for small talk which made talking to him so much easier than say, the Prime or Mirage or anyone else really. He held out the small statue and said, "Prowl said you might know more about her." His spark always skipped a pulse or two when he saw the statues. They were so exquisitely made, every detail accounted for. The crafter, Amaroon, Prowl had called him, really put his love into the work. Sunstreaker was still awed he had the figurines. These were art gallery pieces. They were something former slave gladiators owned. They weren't something a frontliner owned. They were meant to be in those big fancy houses they showed in holovids where a maid came through once a day and dusted them.

First Aid somehow squeezed himself under Ratchet's arm and looked at the statue with bright interest. The juvenile was the _only_ one who could sit like that with Ratchet. He didn't think even Bluestreak or Bumblebee could pull it off. The kicker was, he didn't even think Ratchet noticed when First Aid snuggled up against him. Ratchet's optics didn't widen or brighten with interest like First Aid's. They always became sharper, narrower, like he was trying to look at the thing from every angle at the same time. "Where'd you find her?" he asked. When he wasn't yelling about rewiring them or welding Ironhide's cannon to the wall he had a soft husky voice. First Aid put his audio against the medic's chest and looked like he was half in recharge a few seconds later.

"The town we went to when Prowl came back," Sideswipe said. "There was a mech selling them, he only spoke a little Iaconian so we didn't know what he was saying." Sunstreaker nodded.

Ratchet hummed and sat back rubbing his optics. The rest of the stress lines on his face faded and he twisted his neck from side to side a couple times. First Aid smiled and let out a small sigh. Sunstreaker controlled his own smile. This was the closest Ratchet ever came to relaxing. "Her name is A'hiqa. In the old religion she is a patron of compassion and mercy, particularly for young ones." Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand his optics drifted over the crowded room while he thought. Sunstreaker didn't mind. He had learned patience sitting in those cages under the fighting rings. Sideswipe hated waiting.

"Why does she have a blanket?" First Aid asked, not opening his optics. Ratchet absently stroked the juvenile's arm.

"She was sparked a weaver," Ratchet said. Sunstreaker had no idea what that meant. He sent a questioning pulse to Sideswipe and got the same bewilderment. They gave Ratchet matching questioning looks.

First Aid opened one optic and scrunched his face a little. "What's that mean?"

Ratchet looked down at First Aid's head like the juvenile was playing dumb, but Sunstreaker wasn't. He didn't know how anyone could be sparked a weaver or why that would matter. Or why someone who made blankets would be a patron of compassion and mercy. He was hoping Ratchet took some mercy on them and told them the full story because he was thrice as intrigued now.

"Ahnkmorian society is…complicated. We have a caste system and each level has its own duties and purposes and they don't overlap with others. Whatever cast you're sparked in is the cast you live and die in. I was sparked in the warrior cast so I am a warrior. A'hiqa was sparked in the textile or weaver class," Ratchet said.

Sunstreaker felt like his processor was expanding. It was the same weird and exhilarating feeling he had every time he learned something new and different. Like when Prowl had introduced them to holovids or the first time he'd been able to walk down a street without a collar and chains. He and Sideswipe both leaned forward. Neither one of them knew much about Ahnkmor, but they were still playing catch up with Iacon just so they could get their footing with their fellow soldiers. Sunstreaker wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to tackle any other city-states. "But…what if you're no good at what you're supposed to do?" Sideswipe asked.

Ratchet sighed and looked over the room again. "Then that's too bad. There's not much you can do. It's become a bit more relaxed in some places, the cities mostly, but in the tribes it's as it was an eon ago."

"How many levels are there?" First Aid asked.

Ratchet looked down at him again and flicked the top of his head with his free hand. "Hush, I know what you're up to." So maybe Ratchet wasn't as clueless to First Aid as everyone thought.

First Aid snuggled closer to his side. "I don't know what you mean," he said. "I just have lots of questions." He giggled and destroyed any innocence he had. Ratchet rolled his optics. So the great and powerful medic knew exactly what his apprentice was doing when he dragged him into the rec room, he'd just allowed it to happen. That was interesting. Sunstreaker was like everyone else on the ship believing First Aid was a master manipulator, but—as usual—Ratchet was three steps ahead. Sideswipe blinked and his optics went from First Aid to Ratchet twice before he came to the same conclusion Sunstreaker had.

A smile lifted the corner of Ratchet's mouth. "The other levels don't matter and Sideswipe will be bored with a long lesson on things you already know," he told First Aid. First Aid made a little sound that might've been a pouty 'hmph!' but didn't expand his argument.

"So she has a blanket 'cause she's a weaver," Sideswipe said, "So how's she get a sword and also get to be the femme in charge of compassion and mercy?" Interest bounced between their sparks, an excited little buzz like tiny electrical shocks. All things told, no one outside of Wheeljack and maybe First Aid knew much about Ratchet. Well, Prowl might…and maybe Red Alert, but they probably only knew facts from his personnel file.

Ratchet did the thing where he looked around the room again while he thought. Probably scanning everyone in sight. When he finally spoke again, his voice was a little distant, "In traditional society, the warrior class is the only class that fights. No one else is permitted to take up a weapon, no matter the cause. It's…" he shook his head a little, "that's complicated. But the end is the same. Non-warriors may not use weapons." He paused again and Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe getting impatient and send a hard pulse over their bond telling him to keep his mouth shut. Primus only knew how much of this they were already supposed to know and how much Ratchet was sorting through just to get to the point of the statue. It was times like these that Sunstreaker realized no matter how far they'd come from fighting slaves, they were still an eon and a half behind everyone else. Bumblebee likely didn't need any of this build up, he probably knew the basics of Ahnkmorian society, and he was almost a centicycle younger than them. Bluestreak, too, the youngest one on board probably knew these things. Unhappy about the spark-slap, Sideswipe tried to be as resigned as his brother to waiting.

"You know Ahnkmor is a desert nation," Ratchet asked the Twins, no judgement in his voice but Sunstreaker still wanted to bristle. He nodded instead. "The tribes are semi-nomadic," Ratchet said continuing. "There are a few short kels where rain is _possible_ , but not guaranteed. During these kels the tribes set up more permanent places near temporary water sources. Now, if the rains don't come, which happens as often as it doesn't, the only way for the tribes to survive is by raiding others." He sighed and Sunstreaker had the strangest feeling he was lost in memory. He had never wondered much about where Ratchet was from, he didn't wonder much about anyone's past, but he was curious now if what Ratchet was telling them was all from hearsay or if these battles against drought and other tribes were true memories. Sideswipe's interest was doubly piqued as well. He was going to be badgering Ratchet for the next vorn with questions trying to ferret out the medic's past.

Rubbing his optical ridge Ratchet came back to the present. "So, a very long time ago, the rains didn't come. The Fire Bright clan, facing starvation attacked a neighboring clan, the Wind Slayers. The battle lasted three orns but by the end of it, the Fire Bright clan laid waste to the Wind Slayers' warriors." He paused again but only for a second when he looked down as First Aid moved his head to a more comfortable position. Stroking First Aid's arm he said, "Traditionally, when a clan is defeated the winner is tasked with a mercy kill of all the clan."

First Aid sat up so fast Sunstreaker thought something bit him. " _All_? But, you said they weren't allowed to fight if they're not warriors. You can't kill people who don't fight." The little mech's distress by the bloody turn of the story didn't surprise Sunstreaker. Though he did reevaluate Ratchet's lengthy pauses. Maybe it was less him trying to distill information and more trying to decide if he wanted to upset his apprentice like this. Sideswipe sent him a quick image of the femme with the snake and 'I Told You So' feeling attached to it.

Ratchet sighed and nodded. "Yes, they're not allowed to fight, but there is more in the warrior class than just one who fights. Healers or medics are also in the warrior class. As are hunters. If those who are not warrior class are not allowed to pick up weapons, how then, are they supposed to survive? They are not killed to be cruel," he said softly. "Death by a blade stroke is far more merciful than one from starvation or rusting wounds."

"I don't like this," First Aid said darkly, "You didn't tell me that." He looked like he was ready to storm over to Ahnkmor right now and set the whole city-state to rights. A smile flickered on Ratchet's face, out of sight of First Aid.

"We can get into the moral debate about it another time, for now, Sideswipe is exercising incredible patience."

"Thank you," his brother huffed, as if he'd done them all an amazing service. Sunstreaker rolled his optics. First Aid still looked ready to take on the whole of Ahnkmor but he settled back.

Ratchet briefly smiled again when he looked at his irate apprentice. Upon first meeting First Aid, Sunstreaker hadn't thought him much of anything. Compared to Ratchet he was soft and quiet as a shadow. Over the vorns he and Sideswipe had learned that shadow was actually forged from onyx and could be impenetrable when he decided something. He was a strangely good fit for Ratchet's maelstrom. "When the Wind Slayers' warriors fell, the clan knew they would soon follow and they submitted." The medic looked down at his apprentice again. "Until they came to one femmling hiding in a tent with several others. To the shock of all the warriors, she refused to submit to death and instead, attacked. She had nothing but a small blanket, but she used it to tangle the warrior's feet and knock him to the ground. She was too young to harm anything more than his pride and the others quickly caught her before she could trip anyone else." First Aid looked cautiously interested in the story again and Sunstreaker had to hide his smile.

"The femmling fought the warriors until they set her down. She picked up her blanket and faced them again, ready to fight. The warriors had no idea what to do with her. The honor code of the warrior class is extensive, but nothing in it prepared them for a non-warrior youngling to confront them." The way Ratchet's mouth quirked, Sunstreaker thought this was probably funnier to someone from the warrior class. "The lead warrior asked her, 'why do you fight?' There are those who will fight or run from the blade, but always they are adults who have learned to fear death. They weren't expecting one so young to harbor such a strong fear. The femmling still held her small blanket, ready to trip any that came to close and said, 'you will not harm my friends.' It was that sentiment, that she cared not for her own life, but for her friends that, let's say, dumbfounded the warriors. It was a selfless thought that made them suspicious she was not actually a weaver, but a young warrior disguising herself. But when they examined her hands they found her fingertips colored with dye and no rough spots from holding weapons. She was exactly as she appeared: a young weaver willing to fight and die to protect her young friends." He glanced down briefly at First Aid who was once again listening intently. Sunstreaker was too. This had taken some unexpected turns.

"Uncertain of what to do, the warriors took the femmling and the other young ones to their camp and explained to the clan leader what had happened. After hearing the story, the clan leader admitted he also didn't know what to do. In the history of the Fire Bright clan, this had never happened. If she was acting in the place of a warrior, then the Fire Bright clan could not claim the supplies of the camp, not while a warrior stood. The clan leader sent word out to all other nearby clans asking them to meet to discuss the matter.

Within orns the closest clan leaders and their most experienced warriors had gathered. They spent an entire moon cycle arguing over the details of the honor code, trying to find a path but it seemed in all the history of Ahnkmor, this had never happened before. One morning, the oldest warrior asked the Fire Bright warrior to bring forth the femmling. She still held her blanket and stood in front of the assembled leaders and warriors, fearful, but ready to trip anyone who came at her with ill intent. The old warrior asked her, 'who are you?' The others thought that was a novel question, no one had thought to ask her _that_. She said, 'I am the weaver A'hiqa.' The old warrior declared that, that settled the matter. She had declared herself that she was a weaver, _not_ a warrior. And as the Wind Slayers' warriors had all fallen, then she would join the ancestors. It was a simple solution that put the other visiting clans at ease. The Fire Bright clan leader was less impressed. He told them 'it is not because we name ourselves as warriors, it is how we act as warriors that makes us so. The femmling has named herself a weaver, but she has _acted_ as a warrior.' After the many days of arguing he decided then that the Fire Bright clan would find their own way to deal with young A'hiqa.

In all the time the warriors had spent arguing, the little ones and A'hiqa had begun to fall into the rhythm of life once more. When the warriors returned they realized if they ruled A'hiqa a weaver, they would have to send her and the other little ones to the ancestors before they could make use of the Wind Slayers' supplies. Seeing the young ones playing with their own, helping with chores, none of the warriors were comfortable with the thought of ending them.

After another orn of thinking and watching his clan, the Fire Bright leader ruled that A'hiqa, thought she named herself a weaver, had acted as a warrior and would be given the rights of one. It was an unexpected and painful choice. Now, the only way the Fire Bright clan could make use of the supplies they fought for would be to kill A'hiqa. But, the Fire Bright leader had a cleverer work around. As A'hiqa was the oldest surviving member of the Wind Slayers clan, that made her the official leader. The Fire Bright leader sought to negotiate with A'hiqa as he would another clan leader. After he told A'hiqa what their clan needed, the femmling only said, 'you may take all you need from the Wind Slayers' camp, but you will not hurt my friends.'"

First Aid snuggled against Ratchet's side with a tired, "I like her." Ratchet smiled knowingly and Sunstreaker thought First Aid liked A'hiqa because she sounded just like him. Decepticons could storm the halls now and small, gentle, quiet First Aid would still face down Megatron with nothing but righteous anger and a wrench if he had to. Megatron wouldn't hesitate to kill him like those Fire Bright mechs, but still.

"That's cool," Sideswipe said, optics bright. "Is it true, though? Did it really happen?"

Ratchet shrugged the shoulder First Aid wasn't resting on. "It's as true as any myth," he said. "Stranger things happen every orn. My not welding your mouth shut, for instance." Sideswipe stuck his glossa out at him. Ratchet looked down at his apprentice. "You need to actually recharge tonight, mechling," he said. First Aid made another sound that might've been disagreement but he was halfway to recharge. Rolling his shoulders once, Ratchet pushed himself up and hoisted First Aid into his arms. The little apprentice made another disagreeing sound, but didn't try to get loose.

"Thanks, Ratchet," Sunstreaker said softly, looking at the small figurine.

 **oOo**

Ratchet dropped his apprentice off in his quarters and returned to the med bay. Half the room was in shadow, in the off chance Jazz woke up, but he didn't hear any waking sounds. Walking to the back he checked on his two patients. Prowl's silver feathers glinted like moonlight in the dim light. Without scanners, that was all that was visible. Buried safe under his wings, he and Jazz were twined together. Jazz's head was still over the Praxian's spark where it had been since Prowl dragged himself to the berth. Jazz's temperature was a little high, but he was healing better without the constant interruptions of nightmares.

He watched them for a few breems, not really seeing them but thinking about them. He'd about scared himself into a glitch when Prowl had—half in drug induced recharge—stumbled his way over to Jazz's berth when a nightmare started. One swipe from the Polyhexian wouldn't have done much damage to a healthy Prowl, but a strong hit in the wrong place now would be devastating.

But he hadn't attacked, hadn't even hissed or growled. Prowl had put a hand against his spark and whispered something to him. Seconds later, the nightmare had left. Prowl had slid onto the berth next to him and without waking, Jazz had assumed the position he was in now. Neither one had moved much since. Prowl occasionally resettled his wing, but other than that, they were quiet. They were _peaceful_. Not a word he would have ascribed to Jazz when they first brought him to the ship. He had been watching the Polyhexian every moment he had but there was no resurgence of nightmares. His temperature didn't spike as much. And while he didn't wake, his face was no longer lined with pain or fear.

Medical staff and Red Alert were the only ones that had seen them so far and Ratchet was planning to keep it that way. As far as he knew, Red Alert was the only one outside of medical staff who knew Prowl was on board and he was going to keep that under wrap as long as fragging possible. There were enough Prowl and Jazz interfacing rumors running through the army faster than a virus. He wasn't going to supply them with any new ammunition.

Sighing, he rubbed his tired optics. It rebelled against every bit of his nature, but he needed to recharge. He wouldn't go so far as his berth, but there was a cot in the office. If he left the door open he'd hear any signs of serious distress.

 **oOo**

The late night pressed against Optimus' optics as he and Solaris listened to Ultra Magnus' latest report. "The Praxian Council isn't budging on this. They've said they will inform all enforcers across Praxus of Shockwave, but they will not allow a search by military personnel." Usually, Ultra Magnus exerted his own strained brand of stoicism but the Praxian Council's refusal to allow Autobots to launch a serious search for Shockwave was wearing him thin. Solaris took the news in stride, whatever he thought about the Council concealed behind a mask of cold disinterest. He still was unused to Solaris. Every time he turned to the Polyhexian he expected to see Jazz's expressive face or hear his lively voice.

"They're afraid this is a feint," Solaris said as Ultra Magnus lapsed into irritable pensiveness. He blinked and looked up, Optimus did as well. "They're thinkin' this might be a real problem, or it could be Autobots trying to get a foot in the door. If we get them scared enough maybe we can persuade them to let us put in a base or some battlements. Suddenly, Praxus is an Autobot held territory an' the war is right back on their doorstep."

Optimus held back his indignation. Solaris wasn't saying they would do these things, only giving possibilities for why the Praxian Council was so leery of them. "We need to make them understand that is not what we want here. We want to protect them." Ultra Magnus made a low sound in his throat and glared at the table. "I know you're doing what you can, Ultra Magnus," Optimus said soothingly. "We must think of a different angle. If that is what they're afraid of," he added. "If that's not what they're thinking, we certainly don't want to plant the idea in their processors." Rubbing his tired optics he tried to make his overtaxed processor work.

Solaris gave him a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "There's a word for what you're sayin', Prime: Protectorate." As if that cruel smile had never happened, his mask slid back into place. Silence ticked by. Optimus could feel all the small aches of his body beginning to make themselves known. He needed to recharge tonight. He might even be desperate enough to ask Ratchet for a light sedative to put him down and keep him down.

"I don't see why you are present if you're only going to poke holes in our solutions and not present your own!" Ultra Magnus snapped. Patience running out. Ultra Magnus had been little seen on the _Ark_ since the battle. He was beginning to worry about his second. He didn't have the patience Prowl did, but it seemed his temper was shortening by the orn. Optimus started to step in, but Solaris beat him to it.

"My solution was to start the search in the black, but you two wanted to keep this on the upside and now you're bogged down by bureaucracy." His face didn't change, still that cold distant mask that made Optimus' spark feel cold. "Now, my job is to tell you why you're failing. You wanted the Praxians to know we're in the area. That's nice and noble of you, but now you've got them frettin' about further retaliation should Megatron start on his way here." His voice didn't change, his face didn't change. It was like listening to a voice recording over a still. It was eerie. "Iacon may be rubble in places, but Praxus came gods damned close to bein' wiped off the map. Doesn't matter what your good intentions are, in the grand scheme of this city-state, one psychotic scientist isn't going to do as much damage as Megatron's armada." Optimus knew Solaris was right, but he couldn't help but think if he were with Jazz and Prowl this conversation would not feel so bleak.

 **oOo**

 _Shadows_

 _Drowning, suffocating._

 _Shadows tangle around him tangling his wings, sticking to his limbs, dragging him down. The faint glow of his exposed spark is brighter than a supernova but the shadows are undeterred. They grab at the light and his spark dims._

 _He opens his mouth to scream and the shadows flood in. His spark flickers. The shadows pull him into themselves; drowning, suffocating._

Sharp pain dragged Prowl out of the vision. His wing fell back where it had been before he'd tried to raise it defensively. His spark thrummed hard in his chest, too fast but still there. Dragging in a deep breath he counted to two and slowly let it out. He had not been so terrified by a nightmare in a long time. Jazz's warm body pressed closer to his and Prowl lay his head down again.

A shadow moved just outside his line of sight. Unlike Jazz, he did not startle at such things. He was surprised to see it was not the sharp figure of Death hovering near but a less familiar set of wings. It was tempting to turn his head to see the shadow completely, but Chishiki did not often come into their realm. He would have to meet Her halfway. Slowing his breathing he focused only on the slowing pulse of his spark, Jazz's warm even breaths against his chest, and the quiet, subtle pull of Chishiki's presence just out of reach.

 _Shadows_

It was so quiet, so distant. Yet he didn't sense interference from any of the others. A small frown pulled his optical ridges together. Unease threatened to upset the delicate meditative state he'd found. Chishiki's power was too great, the consequences often too terrible for the others to allow Her to meddle. Kanashimi was the one who most often swept Her back to Her hall, but he did not feel his goddess near.

Images from his recent nightmare flickered through his mind. The terror they elicited no less potent now that he knew he was awake and safe in the med bay with Jazz. Not a nightmare then, but something from Chishiki. He felt the Goddess of Knowledge begin to withdraw and he opened his optics. A shadow that caused terror and extinguished sparks.

Shockwave.

He was loose somewhere in Praxus. Prowl had to find him. He would not let that terror creep over what was left of his homeland. Praxians had endured too much since Megatron's attack, he would stop this fresh hurt before it dug in deeper. Flexing his wings again he grimaced when his shoulder emphatically protested. He could deal with the aches and pains though. He would make his body move one way or another.

A door opened behind him, the scanners on his wings, tattered but functioning, mapped out the visitor as Ratchet. Jazz made a small sound when he pushed himself up more and his optics flickered open. "Prowl?" he murmured, fighting for wakefulness. Prowl used his free hand to stroke his side. The hole in his chest was almost closed, but the exoform around it still looked painful and inflamed.

"Prowl," Ratchet's irritated voice was soft, "what the Unmaker-fragging Pit do you think you're doing?" A warm hand rested on his wounded side and the soft tingling wash of a scan passed through him. It tickled but unlike the younger mechs he forced himself to remain still. Ratchet would just hold him down if he tried to move. "You may not _think_ your internals are one wrong move from falling out, but they fragging well are."

He had a very good idea of how tenuous his healing was. Hardly two breems sitting up and the pain was slowing his thoughts. "I have to go, Ratchet," he murmured, unable to make his voice louder.

"The only fraggin' place you're going in back to recharge," the medic snapped. With quick deft movements, Prowl found his arm pulled out from under him and his head back on the berth. His wings flared in surprise but they too soon fell back to the berth when pain and exhaustion caught up to him. Ratchet's gentle hands stroked over his shoulders once, the tingle of scans cascading through him again. "I've never put any stock in divine intervention, but that's the _only_ reason I can think of that you're still alive. Stop pushing it," the medic said. Jazz was already back in recharge and his body fitted against Prowl's seamlessly.

He needed more recharge, but Chishiki's message hung in the air and shadows around him. "Shockwave," he said. It was so hard to think now. He had a fleeting thought that Ratchet might have put something in him, but that thought soon drifted away like so much mist.

"There is a whole fraggin' warship looking for that one opticked nightmare," Ratchet said as he slid closer to recharge. "We'll find him." But how many would die before that happened. He tumbled back into recharge, Ratchet's gentle hands soothing what hurts he could.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Well, hey there! I see from the comments I have lots of people here from _Where the Lonely Ones Roam_ , if you haven't read that one: 1) Welcome! 2) The next couple of chapters are going to lose you if you don't read that one first. 3) I am a slow updater, the others can attest to that. I do try to shoot for once a month but sometimes it can be more like six weeks.

Can you believe it's June already? It's supposed to be Boiling Lava Hot next week so I doubt I'll be outside much. Good news for you guys! Anyway, stay hydrated out there and make sure your pets have water and shelter if they're outside. Thank you for R/R/F/F!


	4. Chapter 4

Transcript #743

Blaster

Session 184

Hey Smoke.

Good morning, Blaster. You don't sound like yourself. What's on your mind?

I don't…know. I feel…I feel mixed up, like there's too much in my head and I can't get any of it to make sense or sort out.

Is there something in particulare all these thoughts seem mixed up with or is it a bunch of little things piling up?

—4.6 breems silence—

It's…Jazz. And Prowl. And everything. Everything feels wrong.

—6.2 breems silence—

It's my fault.

Blaster, we've spoken about this. Yelling at Prowl was not the way to handle the situation, but the past is past. What you can do now is learn and make yourself better. What happened after is _not_ your fault.

Yes it is. Everything…everything is my fault. I shouldn't've—I did something I shouldn't've done.

What do you mean? What did you do, Blaster?

—15.6 breems silence—

—End Session—

Blaster is usually one of my more talkative patients. I'm concerned with how quiet he was this session. His behavior since Prowl's resignation has been erratic at best. I had thought he was getting better before the battle. But now he's beginning to withdraw once more.


	5. Chapter 5

_Take your hand in mine_

 _It's ours tonight_

 _This is a rebel love song_

 _Hearts will sacrifice_

 _It's do or die_

 _This is a rebel love song_

 _Rebel Love Song ~ Black Veil Brides_

 **oOo**

 _Shadows_

 _Drowning, suffocating._

 _Shadows tangle around him tangling his wings, sticking to his limbs, dragging him down. The faint glow of his exposed spark is brighter than a supernova but the shadows are undeterred. They grab at the light and his spark dims._

 _He opens his mouth to scream and the shadows flood in. His spark flickers. The shadows pull him into themselves; drowning, suffocating._

Prowl ripped himself out of the nightmare with a guttural growl. His shoulder cramped hard, the cables unused to the weight of his wing. "Prowler?" Jazz murmured, standing next to the berth. A warm hand rested on his chest over his thudding spark. Prowl breathed deep, concentrating on the real aches of his healing body and not the phantom agony of his spark being extinguished. Lying on his side his shoulder was ached from the constant weight of his wing and body and he was glad for it. The ache grounded him.

"I'm all right," he said once he had calmed himself. He hadn't had peace from the nightmare in two septorns. Chishiki's presence stayed just out of reach in his waking joors, which worsened his anxiety. Shockwave was still out there. What limited searching the Autobots had done hadn't uncovered him and Shockwave was too smart to leave an obvious trail for the Praxian enforcers to follow. Frustration burned through his lines like acid. He had to get up. His body was healed enough he could help. Chishiki's constant presence made his spark constrict with fear. And that Kanashimi _allowed_ Her younger sibling to meddle in mortal affairs to this extent was almost enough to send him into a panic. He needed to find Shockwave.

Jazz's hand stayed on his chest. "Your spark's still too fast," he said in the same quiet voice. "You've never had nightmares before, Prowl. What's different now?" he asked. Prowl took another deep breath and worked on slowing his spark once more.

"How is Blaster?" Prowl asked, changing the subject. He didn't know how long the nightmare kept him under, but Jazz had said he was going to look for the younger mech before he'd drifted off.

Jazz gave him an unimpressed look. "Subject changes are supposed t'be subtle." But he didn't press the original topic. "He's…I dunno. He seems skittish but I can't get out of him why." Leaning against the berth he stared at his feet.

"Have you talked to him?" Prowl asked when Jazz lapsed into silence. Jazz looked away at the far wall and didn't answer. Prowl let the silence stretch, comfortable with it. "He's not as foolish as he acts, Jazz. You know that," he said when Jazz's claws drummed on the edge of the berth.

Sighing, Jazz let his head hang for a second. "I know. An' I know I need to talk to him, but…Primus, I should'a just let Solaris thrash 'im real good and this would be easier."

"Physical punishment is not an option," Prowl said, voice cool and Jazz flinched.

"Yeah…yeah. I just…he fraggin' well _killed_ me, Prowl. My spark went out, I felt it go dark." Jazz's face hardened, his wide optics narrowing. "He fraggin' well knew what he was doin' was wrong and he still fraggin' did it."

"Yet here you stand," Prowl murmured, his own spark catching at Jazz's words. The visions tormenting him in his recharge of Shockwave destroying others scraped through his processor. Exhaustion settled on his wings making them ache. He needed one night of dreamless recharge. Jazz shot him an annoyed look, fins slicked flat in anger. Gingerly refolding his wing, Prowl said, "I can't tell you when you should be ready, Jazz. But if he hasn't started putting things together, he will eventually and that is not going to make the conversation any easier."

"Stupid glitch," Jazz muttered darkly.

"He can be," Prowl conceded. "He is young and excitable and that can lead him to decisions older and wiser mechs would never consider. But he can learn and this is not a mistake he will make again. You made foolish mistakes, too, when you were young and green. We all do. Those that taught you didn't hold those mistakes over you, did they?"

Jazz made a low whistle of frustration but the angry set of his shoulders slumped. "No. They told me exactly how I fragged up and to never do it again an' I didn't." He was quiet for another breem before he said, "I'll talk to him." He was quiet again but slowly climbed up next to Prowl with a tired sigh. Giving his shoulder a break, Prowl rolled to his back and bared his teeth when sharp aches and pains cascaded through his wings and back.

Jazz put his head on Prowl's shoulder they lay in comfortable quiet. Prowl closed his optics but didn't let his mind drift into recharge. The nightmare still too fresh in his mind and Chishiki was still close. He would be pulled right back in. "We'll find 'im," Jazz said. "And throw his black spark into a smelter, I promise." Prowl turned his face toward Jazz with a faint smile on his face. Jazz's wide blue optics looked back. Ratchet kept the room dark enough Jazz didn't need his visor and Prowl was getting used to seeing his optics unobstructed.

"We need to go." He stretched his wounded wing experimentally and bit back a snarl. He wouldn't be gliding for some time yet, but it wouldn't cause pain if he was walking.

Jazz snorted. "I'll let you explain that to Ratchet." Said medic had been absent from the med bay for a record number of joors this orn. Irritated as he was with Ratchet for not allowing him to get up and help, he was hoping the medic was recharging.

"Don't even try to make plans without me," Jazz said, lifting his head. "I'm in better shape than you." And Shockwave was his nightmare. Prowl realized he hadn't considered not bringing Jazz, that had been a given. He told him as much. Jazz's smile was neither happy nor sad. "Then we better get our afts up and find Prime before Ratchet gets back and dopes us both up again."

It took far too long for Prowl's body to adjust to being upright. His shoulders screamed from the weight of his wings and the still healing wound on his chest throbbed in time with his spark. Jazz, for the first time, was in better shape than him. The fever had done more damage than the weapon itself. He still moved stiffly, but low energy and mild soreness were the worst he had to show for how close Death had come. Clamping down on the urge to stretch his wings he instead followed Jazz into the med bay proper.

According to Red Alert, Ratchet had a gag order on all medical personnel on Prowl's presence, which explained why the Twins hadn't been by to pester him. Jazz technically had a berth in the main room but unless someone came looking for him he'd spent his time curled next to Prowl.

When they walked into the primary bay the few Autobots present almost knocked themselves offline when they saw Prowl limping behind Jazz. "Prowl," First Aid yelped, leaving off whatever he was doing with an open-mouthed Swerve. "You're not supposed to be up at all." The young apprentice gave Jazz a stern look that lacked Ratchet's threatening fire, but still made the TIC obediently stop. Prowl's sensors picked up a light interference from First Aid's scans over his and Jazz's frames. "Jazz you have more freedom, but you look like you're about to do something strenuous so you're back on berth rest too."

"Ah, Aid, that stings," Jazz said with a wounded look and a hand over his spark. First Aid tried not to smile and failed. Prowl was once again thankful the gentle spark had found his way to Ratchet. He didn't think Ratchet would have survived if he didn't have First Aid's quiet strength to lean on.

First Aid managed to stop smiling and look stern again when he looked at Prowl. "You need to lay down, too. Your injuries are still severe." Concern softened his expression. First Aid's gentle spark would not have survived the war if it wasn't shielded by Ratchet's own battered and scarred spark. Medic and apprentice balanced each other perfectly, like orbiting celestial bodies. Without the other they would spin away into darkness.

"An' here I thought sneakin' out without Hatchet here would be easy," Jazz sighed. First Aid's fins flicked up and back once and he stood a little taller. He still was only Prowl's height and only a third Jazz's age but he had the confidence of a full medic. The stress of the last kel had solidified more of First Aid's confidence. Ratchet was leaving him with longer and longer stretches alone in the med bay, trusting him with more complex procedures. Ratchet's trust and confidence were shaping the soft-spoken apprentice into a fine medic.

"And since Ratchet isn't here, I am the acting medic which means all Autobots, including command staff, must defer to my judgement on medical matters," he said tartly. Prowl held back a laugh but still smiled when Jazz's fins flicked up in surprise. Jazz could weasel his way around Ratchet when he set his mind to it. Prowl didn't think the saboteur was prepared for First Aid's brand of resiliency.

Jazz gathered himself after a second and flashed First Aid a genuine smile. "How long did it take Ratchet to teach you that?"

"He didn't, Prowl did."

Jazz shot him a look and he flicked the ends of his wings in a shrug. He'd told First Aid that when Ironhide was being difficult. But it was true and if the young apprentice ordered them back to their berths then he would go, if only so he didn't undermine First Aid's confidence. Jazz studied the apprentice for a few seconds and realized he wasn't going to walk out of the med bay as he intended. Falling back on his Jazzmech persona he snapped a sharp salute and winced when the movement stretched the burn on his chest. Prowl did laugh softly when First Aid gave Jazz an exasperated look that could have been superimposed from Ratchet.

"Has Ratchet told you the story of the West Wind?" Prowl asked as Jazz ambled over to his assigned berth. First Aid's optics lit with curiosity and he shook his head. "Ask him, I think you'll enjoy it." Prowl didn't go back to the small private room he'd been in. With Swerve in the room the entire _Ark_ already knew he was onboard. He might as well be in a place easily seen so First Aid wasn't dealing with constant disruptions.

He assumed it wouldn't take long for the Prime to come down and see why Prowl and Jazz were up so he didn't lay down. He needed to look strong enough to help and if it took him five breems to get upright, that wasn't going to help his cause. Jazz leaned against his uninjured side with one foot on the berth and the other swinging meditatively. Prowl tilted his head back and let his mind settle. It wasn't peaceful enough for Dreaming, but he could feel the gods gathered just outside of his current awareness.

It wasn't uncommon for Kanashimi to be near, but he felt several others and anxiety threatened to unsettle him. Nothing about Their behavior was normal. Kanashimi, Chishiki, Death, and Hasu were the ones he was the most familiar with, but there were others he had only the faintest ties to. One light presence might be Mujitsu and another dark entity tied with Kanashimi and Death could be Hanta. He lost his delicate balance and his awareness of the gods. Mujitsu was a Goddess of young sparks, innocents. For Her to stand with so many of the dark gods when She was meant to be with those of light made Prowl feel sick. "We have to find him," he whispered so soft only Jazz could hear.

"We will." Steel threaded through both words but Jazz's touch was light on his arm.

 **oOo**

A joor later, Bluestreak streaked into the med bay with a happy squeal suited more for a sparkling than a trained sniper. Prowl huffed a quiet laugh and caught Bluestreak in a tight hug that made his wing and chest ache but he didn't let go. Bluestreak's happiness surpassed his speech center and he chirruped and clicked like a sparkling. "Bluestreak," Prowl murmured, forcing his wing to unfold and curl around Bluestreak's smaller frame. "Are you all right?" he asked in the same soft voice, nuzzling his head.

Bluestreak clicked and snuggled close to Prowl's spark. Prowl did feel marginally calmer with the juvenile safe with him. The need to find Shockwave was still overriding his usual peace, but Bluestreak was safe without any evidence of serious wounds. He wasn't certain if he'd been able to save the juvenile from the worst of Shockwave's attack. "Back!" Bluestreak finally managed to get out.

"Bluestreak, you have to be careful," First Aid chided in a gentle voice. "Prowl's still healing." Bluestreak looked up at Prowl and Prowl pressed their foreheads together. Bluestreak hopped up on the berth next to him and curled tight against his side with a deep sigh. Prowl rested his head against Bluestreak's and closed his optics while he waited for the Prime's arrival. Bluestreak purred softly, the low thrum more felt than heard as tension bled from his wings.

Right on time, the Prime walked in to the med bay half a joor later and zeroed in on them. Prowl held back a smile when First Aid narrowed his optics at the Prime. He might be quiet and deferential when he was at Ratchet's side, but he took his responsibility as acting medic quite seriously. He had already chased off half the ship who had come to see if the rumors were true. Bluestreak, of course, was the exception. Said juvenile opened one optic and then blinked himself awake and watched the Prime approach.

Focused on Jazz and Prowl, the Prime missed First Aid's look. "Prowl, when did you arrive?" Jazz cocked an optic ridge and Prowl lifted his chin a fraction, refusing to let his amusement show. Whatever threats and blackmail Ratchet had used to keep his presence secret had been effective. The Prime saw their expressions and sighed with a rasp of irritation. "You've been here for some time, haven't you." Ratchet was going to get another lecture that he would ignore. Prowl didn't answer. Bluestreak made an unhappy sound and Prowl ran a soothing hand down his back.

"We're goin' after him, Prime," Jazz without preface. The Prime's optic ridges drew together for a second until he realized who Jazz was talking about. Bluestreak's wings perked up in interest and he looked from Prowl and Jazz to the Prime trying to figure it out as well.

The Prime shook his head curtly. "Absolutely not. Jazz, you may be close to returning to duty but Prowl is still far too injured."

"The Praxian Council is far more likely to allow me to coordinate searches than they are anyone else," Prowl said. "And as I have not been formally reinstated to the Autobot army, there is nothing you can do to stop me." Bluestreak flinched and pressed close to him once more. Prowl slid his wing more around the juvenile and held his head against his shoulder.

The Prime blinked in surprise as if he'd forgotten Prowl wasn't his SIC anymore. And now that he thought about it, Red Alert had not mentioned Ultra Magnus at all during his sporadic visits. He hadn't heard any of the others in the med bay discussing him either though he'd heard plenty of updates about Ironhide's fits concerning the restrictions the Praxian Council put on the Autobots. The Prime sighed and looked at the floor as he thought. "No, Prowl, you haven't been formally reinstated. I can't stop you if you want to kill yourself going after him, but Jazz is still a part of this army and under my command. He isn't going after Shockwave."

Jazz stiffened and a dangerous hum of tension went through his frame. "Prime—" he hissed, fins flared.

"I'm going with Prowl," Bluestreak said in a soft voice, his wings tightening against his back.

"No," Prowl, Jazz, and the Prime said at the same time. Bluestreak lifted his chin and Prowl shook his head once. "No, Bluestreak. I will devise any number of missions for you, but Shockwave is not a Decepticon you will hunt." It didn't matter how many Shockwave had already killed, he knew harming Bluestreak would be a blow to the Autobot army. Prowl's personal pain would only be a side benefit.

Bluestreak's face scrunched into a stubborn frown and Prowl shook his head again. Bluestreak was more dogged than most knew and Prowl readied for a protracted battle. "You can't go alone and Prime said Jazz isn't going. So I'm going."

"Prime can say whatever he wants, Shockwave is _mine_ ," Jazz growled.

"Jazz," Prime said in warning, "Ultra Magnus is more than ready to press charges of desertion, don't push your luck with insubordination."

"Let 'im," Jazz snapped back. "He wants me outta here then I'ma free agent and I go after Shockwave. Doesn't matter what you say or do Prime, I'm getting that sire-fraggin' glitch."

Before the Prime could respond First Aid slid between them and looked up at the Prime. "The med bay is not a place for arguments. Jazz and Prowl are both on berth rest so you will have to wait and have this conversation in your office when they are cleared by medical personnel." His fins flicked but didn't fully flare because he was still a young apprentice addressing the Prime.

The Prime looked bewildered to hear First Aid address him in such a curt tone. Still looking a little bemused he said, "I understand, First Aid, but—"

"So help me Prime, if you try to back talk a medic in _my_ med bay I'll reformat you as a transport and give the Matrix to Sideswipe," Ratchet growled, stalking through the doors. Bluestreak perked up and gave a cheerful chirp when he saw the medic. Loitering mechs and femmes dispersed and those meant to be in the med bay immediately dropped down to their berths like good patients. Prime shot Ratchet a glare, which the senior medic ignored. First Aid relinquished authority to Ratchet and stepped to the side. "Prowl, the frag are you doing walking around?" he snapped, a scan that gave a wash of interference hit Prowl and he sighed. But whatever recharge Ratchet had gotten while he'd been absent made him look better. He was still scowling, but the lines around his optics weren't as deep.

"Ratchet," Prime said. "Why was I not informed Prowl was onboard?" he asked, a hard edge to his voice. It was the closest the Prime came to yelling at someone and most mechs tried to melt through the floor when he turned that voice on them. As with most things, Ratchet was immune.

"Because he's not part of the Autobot army and you never asked for a roster of civilians," he snapped back. The Prime didn't have anything he could say to that because while Ratchet had deliberately not told the Prime he was in the med bay, it was also true that unless the Prime asked, Ratchet had no reason to tell him anything. "Bluestreak, pry yourself loose, your combined sensors are causing too much interference." Bluestreak made a low sound and Ratchet's expression softened in a way that only happened with the three youngest on board. "He's not going anywhere, scoot." The juvenile made another unhappy sound but slid off the berth and stood next to First Aid. "Prowl, berth," Ratchet ordered as he did another scan, not paying any more attention to the Prime.

"How has he been?" he asked instead of doing as the medic asked. Bluestreak gave an indignant chirp. Prowl raised an optic ridge. "I asked you and you didn't answer." The juvenile ruffled his feathers but didn't have a good comeback to that.

"Still a chatterbox," Ratchet said rolling his optics to the ceiling. "Berth." First Aid and Bluestreak both snickered and Prowl could only imagine how often Bluestreak had been with the medic the last kel. Without Prowl onboard, Ratchet was the next closest mech with which Bluestreak felt unequivocally safe. And while Ratchet was patient in his own way, Bluestreak's constant noise had to have pushed him to the brink.

"I need to find Shockwave," Prowl said, still not moving. Ratchet stared at him expressionless and in silence. Prowl matched him. The silence stretched and neither one looked away. Prowl had seen Ratchet buckle other mechs under his stare, but Prowl also used the technique and was as immune to it as Ratchet was. The standoff continued.

"No."

"Yes." Prowl felt something hum through the berth and on the floor small slots opened and clear panels of crystal snapped up. Prowl blinked first. "Did you just put up a quarantine?"

"No, it's a containment measure for combative patients," Ratchet said, crossing his arms over his chest. Jazz slid off the berth and tapped the walls with his claws. "They use them in psych ward, Jazz. Medical override only." Jazz moved to the seam and scraped his claws across the crystal leaving hairline scratches on the surface. Bluestreak hesitantly tapped the other side of the crystal and bared his teeth at it.

"You slipped that into your plans," Prowl observed as he looked up at the walls. Even if he stood on the berth he wouldn't be able to jump over the panels, not without some help from his wings and they were still too injured.

"You're not going after Shockwave," Ratchet said.

"Yes, I am."

 **oOo**

Solaris ambled in toward the end of third shift. Hoist keeping an optic on the mech with every step he took. "Medic said if you two went missin', they'd never find my body," he said in greeting. Prowl managed a quiet laugh and Jazz rolled his optics. "Praxians are still bein' difficult as ever, can't hardly run a security diagnostic without one of 'em askin' what we're doin'."

"My people have been through more than most," Prowl said softly, sitting up with more ease than he had that morning. He'd spent his 'containment' working out the kinks in his body. He was still sore, but there weren't as many shooting pains.

Solaris nodded and leaned against the crystal wall. Hoist still kept him within optic range. The old Polyhexian gave the medic a feral grin. "Wheeljack'll be in here soon as I leave makin' sure this cage is still sturdy."

Jazz grinned but didn't laugh. "Envy, Plunder?"

Solaris whistled low in frustration. "I wasn't exaggeratin' when I said the Praxians were watchin' us. Fraggin hard for a couple'a Polys to disappear in a crowd when the crowd is watchin'." Prowl tapped his finger against the berth while he thought. There wasn't really a way to disguise a Polyhexian to blend in with a crowd of winged mechs. If he could get in contact with his people, he might be able to persuade them to help the two disappear and begin their search. Those closest to Chishiki must know how close their goddess was, if they were getting visions as well they would help Plunder and Envy.

"See if you can get a message to the village Shiki, they will help. If they hesitate, I will speak with them," Prowl told him.

Solaris nodded once. "I'll do it soon as the suns are up."

Jazz scowled. "How come when I tell you to do stuff you gotta think about it for ten breems 'fore I get an answer."

"That mech can thrash me from one side of this ship to the other, you can't. That's the difference," Solaris said.

"I had many sparring sessions at the Academy," Prowl deadpanned. Solaris narrowed his optics and Jazz looked him up and down slowly.

"All right, mechs," Hoist said in a soft but firm voice. "Time for everyone to get recharge, or skulk in the vents, whatever it is you do, Solaris." The dry comment surprised a laugh out of Prowl and Jazz both. Solaris looked Hoist up and down as if he needed to reassess the soft-spoken medic.

"I have _never_ been on ship or base with this many mouthy medics," he said, but he whistled a farewell and strolled out with the same unhurried pace he'd entered. Hoist watched him leave and waited and extra five breems to make sure he was really gone.

Ten breems later, as Hoist continued through his list of duties, Wheeljack poked his head in. The engineer stretched his long arms over his head and shook himself from head to toe once. Bioluminescent lines glowed amused sky blue and his optics flashed diamond white as he scanned the containment walls and underlying structures. Jazz grinned, a real smile and not the fake one he'd been using for two septorns and Prowl huffed a tired laugh.

 **oOo**

Two orns later, Jazz woke from surprisingly dreamless recharge. He didn't immediately open his optics, listening for whatever it was that had woken him. The med bay stayed quiet, the steady hum of machines didn't waver. Prowl was quiet and still next to him, whatever nightmares were plaguing him leaving him be for the moment. Opening his optics he lifted his head and looked around. Shadows flitted along his peripherals but each time he looked they disappeared. Something…not quite dread, but trepidation, urgency, skittered through his spark. The itching need to _move_ to get free of the cage crawling along his exoform.

Prowl's deep intake was the only warning he had before the Praxian sat up. "They're here," he whispered. Sliding off the berth he moved without a sound to the crystal wall. "We must go, this cannot wait any longer." Sapphire optics glowed faintly in the semi-darkness. Shadows skittered in Jazz's peripherals but this time when he looked they didn't flee. The darkness coalesced into a large mech with wings the size of sails.

"You," Jazz whispered. Twice now he had seen this mech, once in Tar'xian and once on the mountain as he climbed to Prowl. The mech's emerald green optics glowed but he didn't speak. With a soft whirr the crystal walls lowered. The mech looked to Prowl, a troubled expression on his face, but the Praxian didn't hesitate to step out of the containment zone. Just as he appeared, the large mech faded into shadows that scattered when Jazz tried to look at them. "Who?" he whispered, following Prowl. A faint smile lit Prowl's optics but his expression didn't change. He reached back and touched Jazz's hip where his stone was safely stored.

Reaching the hall, Jazz decided a longer conversation could wait until they were clear of the _Ark_. Jazz had plenty of practice dodging cameras and Prowl knew how Red Alert ran security, between the two of them they slunk through the halls little more than shadows themselves.

Jazz didn't think there would be an alarm if they were spotted, but Ratchet's swearing would wake everyone up anyway. He kept his audios turned up, listening for any errant footfalls, but the ship stayed quiet. At the entrance to the hangar Prowl hesitated. Looking back with indecision in his optics Jazz lightly touched his arm. "Kokoro," he said, little louder than a breath. Shadows danced in Jazz's peripherals but they vanished when he looked. Raising his fins he glowered at where they had been but Prowl looked relieved. Reaching into his own hip compartment he pulled out his sharp black stone and from his less injured wing he tugged out a loose feather. The silver filaments glittered in the dimly lit hall. Carefully, he set the stone and feather to the side of the door. When he stood he looked back at Jazz, optics asking a silent question. Jazz checked the hall once more and then slipped into the hangar ahead of him. There were only a few joors of darkness left and the twitchy medics would be in to check them as soon as the suns rose.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Gods above and Hells below, I have no idea why this chapter was so damn hard to write, but let's hope the next one is easier. This would have been up sooner, but I was distracted by Voltron: Legendary Defender. But, you will be happy to know I told myself I wouldn't post any Shiro angst until the Jazz angst is resolved, lol. I hope everyone had a good summer, thank you for R/R/F/F!


	6. Chapter 6

Transcript #720

Ultra Magnus

Session 42

Good Afternoon, Commander Magnus. You may sit if you'd like.

Thank you.

You seem anxious, Commander. What's troubling you?

—1.2 breems silence—

I don't understand it, Smokescreen. I have been in a leadership role in one way or another my entire military career and I have never encountered anything like this ship, like this crew. I just…everything I do that should bolster our readiness comes apart at the seams. How does this make any sense? How can any unit, any army, be at optimum readiness when they sneak out after curfew to play hologames or watch vids and listen to music at such outrageous decibels? And yet this crew is what the rest of the arm measures itself against. They are the best and yet they are so…unorganized, undisciplined, and, and, and—

Unorthodox?

That's putting it lightly, but yes, I suppose that's a word that will work.

—5.4 breems silence—

I was honored beyond words when the Prime himself reached out to ask me if I would accept the position as Second-In-Command. I thought…I thought I had…I thought I had finally become good enough, I had learned enough to be counted among the elite of this crew. It was…humbled and proud. And now I'm afraid that I was wrong. I'm missing something. I felt it those few orns Commander Prowl was onboard. There is something in the way they respond to him that I've never felt, never with any unit I've ever led.

—7.6 breems silence—

Commander Magnus, there is always a transitional period. It has not always been like that with Prowl. And that Prowl resigned under less than ideal circumstances only added to the stress of that period. You and the crew have to find a rhythm that suits all of you.

There's always turbulence that comes with a change in command, but…I find the Praxian Council is easier to deal with than the ensigns on this ship. But I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to be a better commander. Perhaps I'm not ready. Maybe I'm not the commander I thought I was.

—End Session—

I do feel deeply for Commander Magnus. This mess that he was dropped into with Prowl and Jazz already had the crew in a tailspin, add in the stress of an officer change and they really have been unmanageable. I don't know how to convey to him though that his fears are unfounded when everything he sees and hears backs up his own self-doubt.


	7. Chapter 7

_When the pain cuts you deep_

 _When the night keeps you from sleeping_

 _Just look and you will see_

 _That I will be your remedy_

 _When the world seems so cruel_

 _And you heart makes you feel like a fool_

 _I promise you will see_

 _That I will be_

 _I will be your remedy_

 _Remedy~Adele_

 **oOo**

Ratchet sat up before he was fully awake. Medical programming snapped him out of drowsing and disoriented to focused and awake in the time it took his optics to reboot and open. First Aid's frightened face was in front of him and he was rolling out of his berth before First Aid finished saying his name. He had a full roster of everyone currently in med bay but none of their tags were going off.

"They're gone," First Aid said, his two small hands holding one of Ratchet's for a brief second. Short panicky breaths stuttered in and out of him. "They're gone," he repeated. With all patients in med bay seemingly fine, Ratchet turned his attention to his distressed apprentice. They were already in the hall but it was early and no one else was there to disturb them.

"First Aid," he said, coming to a stop and gently cupping the side of First Aid's face with his free hand. "Breathe," he murmured pressing their foreheads together. He felt First Aid struggling to pull himself together. He hadn't seen his juvenile this upset in decacycles. "Start at the beginning. Is anyone hurt?"

First Aid's grabbed his hand again, a strange habit he had when he started to feel overwhelmed. But it always helped to ground him so Ratchet didn't shake him off. "I don't think so? No," he said in a firmer voice. "No, we're sure they left on their own." Whatever control he started to find unraveled and his hands shook. "But they're still so hurt, I don't know, they could be hurt. We haven't found them yet."

"Who is missing?" Ratchet asked patiently. He'd had worse wake up calls than a missing patient or two. Still, he would put dents in them that would never heal for upsetting First Aid. His little juvenile had grown in strides the last few kels and anyone who thought to mess that up would be thrashed as bad as Ratchet's medical coding would allow him.

First Aid calmed marginally and tucked himself against Ratchet but he still shivered. "Jazz and Prowl, they're gone, we can't figure out how or where they've gone."

Ratchet rubbed his optics, the snappy wake up always left him feeling drained if there wasn't an immediate life or death crisis to keep him focused. "What? First Aid, Prowl and Jazz are in a containment field."

"But they're _gone_ and we can't figure out how and they're still hurt and Solaris said they probably went after Shockwave." He started shaking again and Ratchet put an arm around his shoulders as he started walking toward the med bay. He had an alert set up on the containment field, no one could even _lean_ against the damn thing without him knowing about it. He also realized the medical tags he had on Jazz and Prowl were no longer responding.

Growling low in his chest he started to wake up more as his anger focused him. For as early as it was, the med bay was full of mechs. Hoist, Grapple, Wheeljack, Solaris, and a couple of the junior medics were gathered around where Jazz and Prowl should be. Those still confined to their berths were awake and staring at the crowd with recharge heavy confusion. The crowd turned as one and Ratchet saw that indeed, the containment field was empty. Fins rising and red pulsing at the edge of his vision he turned a deadly glare on Solaris who held up both hands in surrender.

"I had nothin' to do with this. I'm well aware it was a suicide mission with no hope of bringing the glitch down." And as cold as it was that Solaris _would_ have let them out if they could have brought down Shockwave, Ratchet believed him. Solaris' spark had been replaced with ice an eon ago, but Jazz and Prowl were valuable resources for him, he wouldn't just throw them away.

"There's no evidence of tampering, we've gone over the code and the physical structure three times. We can't figure it out," Hoist said, ignoring Ratchet's bubbling fury. "Everything is exactly how I left it."

"Then we need to find them," Ratchet said in a calm voice he didn't feel. All heads turned in his direction, optics wide and pale. " _So I can fraggin' kill them both!_ "

 **oOo**

Jazz second guessed himself as they climbed a sharp peaked hill. It wasn't quite a mountain, but to his still healing body it might as well have been. Prowl was next to him, optics focused on his feet as they trudged up. His wings hung low on his back. Not so low they snagged on the underbrush, but lower than Jazz had ever seen them. His breaths came in short controlled pants that occasionally held a rasp of pain. But he hadn't stopped. Whatever was in the shadows still flickering in his peripherals seemed to be driving him. Jazz was in better condition and he still felt like he might fall apart if he stepped the wrong way.

They paused at the top of the hill and looked back. He had thought they would go through Tar'xian but Jazz had led him in the opposite direction. Two orns out they couldn't see the _Ark_ anymore. More jagged hills dotted the landscape behind them with trees beginning to unfurl their leaves as spring fully settled in Praxus. Tiny wildflowers in yellow, pink, white, and purple carpeted the hills where trees didn't shadow them. Even some of the trees were blooming with blushing white that perfumed the air with sweetness. Cloudless sapphire blue sky stretched all the way to the mountains where frosted peaks rose like a steel crown tipped with diamonds.

And somewhere Shockwave was hiding. His very presence cast a pall over the orn. Jazz looked at Prowl, still breathing hard and wings low but optics sharp and bright as they traced the landscape. Jazz almost reached up to brush his fingers across the scar on Prowl's neck but stifled the urge. He'd caught himself a few times over the orns from reaching out to stroke a wing or his face. And every time he pulled back before he could do more than twitch his fingers. Fever dreams and incoherent memories of Prowl and a hall of pale stone with a shadow of death plagued him. They left him reeling with a spark deep sense of safety and warmth and light. If it was just that he wouldn't dwell on it, he could use more memories free of pain and fear, but wrapped up in all those warm feelings was self-hate and shame. He didn't have the energy to grapple with those two things. He tried to chalk it up to lingering guilt over Mercury but it didn't lessen the feelings.

He wished he could talk to Smokescreen, which was how he knew his head was messed up.

Closing his optics and breathing deep once he turned away from where they had been to where they were going. There were more hills but his trained optic picked up the subtle signs of cultivation in the trees ahead of them. The trees were too uniform in height and spacing and all looked to have the same blooms. "We're close to a town it looks like," he said drawing Prowl's attention.

Prowl nodded. "Hanghi. There's a lake on the other side, we'll have to book a ferry."

"Where are we goin'?" Jazz asked since it looked like Prowl still needed a few breems of rest, not that he'd ever admit it. Jazz would admit to being hopelessly lost. He'd never had any reason to study Praxus and didn't know much about it aside from what little he remembered from school and eon and a half ago. He knew what the capitol had been, before Megatron turned it into a crater, but he didn't know what the new capitol was or if they'd even bothered to name a new capital. Praxians were weird in a variety of colorful ways. But on a personal level, he was becoming more and more enamored with the "lost" city-state. He could see why Bluestreak wanted to see it so bad. Just in the two orns they had been away from the ship he had seen a roaring waterfall swollen with ice melt and tumbling into an equally fierce river. The flowers beginning to shake off winter and open their blooms were jewel bright, like something from a painting. The entire landscape was like a painting.

Prowl looked at the horizon again and Jazz wondered what he saw when he looked at the incredible landscape. "A lesser known route to the other An'Shar settlements," Prowl answered. A cool spring breeze blew across his feathers and Jazz fisted his hand at his side so he wouldn't touch. Prowl lifted his wings and grimaced before lowering them again. "I admit, the route looks much easier from the sky." Jazz barked a laugh that made his chest hurt, but it felt good to laugh with Prowl. For two orns they had been focused on moving, getting distance between them and the _Ark_.

Looking back at the wildflower carpet behind them Jazz rolled his shoulders. "We're still not very far, not for a bunch of healthy mechs and a _very_ angry medic," he said. "Primus, we must be glitched, you realize we ran away from _Ratchet?_ " His exoform prickled and a shudder he didn't feign shook his shoulders.

Prowl snorted. "We're injured and tracking down the most notorious and sadistic Decepticon—perhaps Cybertronian—to ever exist and you're worried about Ratchet?" he asked mildly.

Jazz gave in to temptation and brushed his fingers against Prowl's feeling the spark of warmth where they touched and the deep sense of safety and warmth that was just as quickly overshadowed by fear and shame. Turning away because he knew he couldn't control his face he said, "I've survived Shockwave, I know exactly what he can do to me. Ratchet on the other hand is _creative_. He has _imagination_. Both things Shockwave lacks." He started down the hill, Prowl following still close enough to touch.

"His medical coding will not allow him to cause harm, Jazz. You had to have figured that out by now. That's why he hasn't actually detached Ironhide's head and given it to Sideswipe to kick around."

Jazz remained unconvinced. "You honestly think when Ratchet finds us after we slipped out of his med bay when we both knew we were still too injured to do something this stupid his medical coding will contain him?"

Prowl was quiet for a few breems. "I see, perhaps we should move faster." Jazz laughed and when he glanced at Prowl he found his optics bright with his own laughter and a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. The blue sky above matched his optics and wildflower sweetness filled the air around them as a cool breeze stroked over the landscape and despite everything behind them and everything ahead of them, this moment was perfect.

 **oOo**

They veered from the orchards to a stone paved road as the suns began to set. The suns gilded the long grasses between the trees and turned the rough bark of trees to molten gold for a few breems as the sky blazed orange and streaked wisps of clouds magenta. "I see why Praxians were fine locking themselves away for an eon," Jazz said. Insects chirped and evening birds sang as they winged their way home. And Megatron had done his best to destroy it all. Primus and Praxians were the only ones who knew what beautiful things had been lost, what sparks had gone dark.

"Yes, it was not the trial so many think it was," Prowl answered, optics tracing the path of a bird as it skimmed over trees. His damaged wings spread a fraction in the breeze and a lance of pain went through Jazz's spark. As if he'd felt the spasm, Prowl turned to him with a gentle smile. "It's not forever. They will heal. I miss the sky, but that's more for my own comfort. Winged mechs are not built for walking long distances and I have more of a seeker frame than most Praxians." Jazz did notice the ginger way he stepped on the stones. He'd never considered how winged mechs walked, but now that he was looking he could understand why seekers preferred to fly what he would consider short distances. Prowl's feet had high arches and splayed toes like great birds of prey. Jazz's feet ached from the two orns of walking they'd done and he was better suited for walking long distances.

"We need to stop for an orn," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Their lead wasn't long enough for a break, but he couldn't believe Prowl was still moving.

Prowl did his best to stretch his wings, grimacing the entire time. "We will. Hanghi has plenty of places to rest. We need to book a ferry to Biardi and, if I recall, they only leave every other orn. If we've missed it, it will be another orn before we depart." A blessing and a curse, just like everything in XOps.

"Then I hope our lead is enough."

 **oOo**

The town was smaller than Tar'xian, but it was twice as lively. The breeze brought the blessed rich scent of water. It wasn't earthy mud scent of a stagnant body of water but it wasn't the sharp briny scent of the ocean. Breathing deep, Jazz sighed. "Big lake, probably messes with the weather around here." The road meandered like a stream itself through tightly packed stone buildings. Winged mechs built up and this small town was no exception He didn't see any building shorter than three stories. Mechs and femmes congregated on the roofs, standing precariously close to the edge, their wings open to the constant breeze blowing off the lake.

Jazz audios, accustomed to the quiet of the wild picked up on all the rowdy laughter and yells like they were screaming directly at him. Absently, he rubbed his audios as they recalibrated to filter the noise. He kept his optics on the town ahead though, a smile starting to pull at his mouth. He'd never seen, never imagined Praxians could be a ridiculously charged as anyone else. Not even in Tar'xian did they drink with the abandon he could see and hear here.

The suns were only a fire red streak on the horizon and already he saw a pair staggering from one brightly lit building to another, their wings tangled together but still held off the ground. "You don't think about keeping your wings up do you?" Jazz asked, giving in to temptation and brushing his fingers down the closest silky feathers. Sparks of _home_ and _safe_ warmed his spark and were just as quickly frozen by a wave of shame. He pulled his hand away, spark twisting around the feelings he couldn't explain.

Prowl's optics surveyed the town and the charged denizens and a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "We're taught when we're young to keep them up. But those are soldiers, that level of unconscious discipline you will not see in the average populace. I'm sure you'll see some wings on the ground before the moons are high."

"Soldiers?" Jazz said, complicated mood blowing away with the wind. "They'll know my face, Magnus had it on blast with those AWOL charges." He bared his teeth but smoothed the expression over. They were close enough people could see them coming down the road.

Prowl flicked the ends of his wings. "There is only a miniscule chance one of them thinks to report seeing you." His smile turned a touch sharper, like a thorn hidden under soft petals. "And this particular port has ferries that serve a dozen different towns and cities on the other side of the lake. It's also small enough not many will speak Iacon Standard. Smokescreen is from the south, he doesn't know this dialect and while I've started to teach Bluestreak, he doesn't know enough to be an effective translator."

Jazz tilted his head and glanced at him. "I hope I never have to track you."

"But if we were in Polyhex, would you have done anything different?" Prowl asked. Jazz whistled softly in agreement. "Try not to worry about it, there are a great deal many Polyhexians who work the ports," Prowl added. "We'll stick close to the bars, they'll be too charged to tell us apart." Jazz laughed.

They reached the first intersection of the town and while they waited for transports laden with barrels and crates and sacks and mechs to motor by Jazz looked around like a tourist. He'd spent a few septorns in Vos on a mission but his cover had been a lifetime businessmech, he couldn't afford to look the tourist there, though he'd sorely wanted to.

Praxians winged from building to building, some with drinks in hand, the susurration of their wings was as constant as the breeze. The buildings were ancient, the stone worn to a shine by an eon of accidental brushes and wind and storms. Soft slate blue with veins of cream and gold the building closest to them was lit by lanterns that looked ancient, but used solar lights. Across from them was a building of beautiful moonstone and farther down was sparkling jade charnockite. Every building was a different color, different texture, some were even different shapes. There was one closer to the lakeshore shaped like a budding flower, the 'petals' of onyx and pale limestone were balconies where winged and a few unwinged mechs were enjoying the evening.

The whole town used similar ancient looking light fixtures like lanterns retrofitted with modern light sources. Streetlights of heavy black metal arched over the narrow streets and were shaped like sea creatures. "Everything about this place looks like something outta a holovid. One of those youngling ones that First Aid and Bluestreak like." Prowl looked around as well as they crossed the street before laughing softly.

"I suppose it does. I admit, I hardly ever see Praxian streets from the ground." He looked up, his wings flexing a little, and said, "The buildings are different shapes and colors so that from above they're easy to identify. It does lend itself to whimsy from the street level."

Prowl led them down twisting streets while Jazz continued to look all around like a glitch fresh out of the pond. He had always believed that Polyhex was the most beautiful of the city-states, even with the war tearing it apart, but Praxus was trying hard to change his mind. Passing through a residential area there were strings of colored lights strung between streetlights. Doors and windows were open, warm light spilling out onto the stoops as neighbors gathered with drinks and small plates of food. Winged mechs fluttered down from higher balconies to join unwinged mechs on the ground. Music played from several windows creating a frenetic backbeat to the flow of conversation and laughter.

"Is it a holiday?" Jazz asked as they made their way through the crowd. Someone whistled a greeting and he whistled back. He loved his people. He didn't think there was a Polyhexian alive that had ever met a stranger.

Prowl was stopped by another Praxian who looked at his wings in concern. The mech spoke the local dialect and Jazz set his translator to trying to work out a word or two. Prowl responded without hesitation which meant he could speak the dialect and wasn't relying on a translator. He gave the inquiring mech a small smile and his wings flexed and fluttered. Jazz watched them speak with his head cocked to the side. The only winged mechs Prowl spoke to on the _Ark_ were Bluestreak and Smokescreen and—unless he was aggravated or worried—he never moved his wings when he spoke with them. Talking to this stranger though Jazz could swear both sets of wings were having their own brief conversation.

The conversation ended after a breem and Prowl gave the mech a genuine smile before moving on. "What was that?" Jazz asked. The mech hadn't approached or spoken in a hostile manner, he'd seemed concerned.

"My wings," Prowl answered. "He wanted to know if I was all right and if I needed a medic."

"Nice of 'im," Jazz said looking back. "You sure he's not calling the ship right now?" he added.

Prowl stepped out of the way as a pack of younglings streaked by chasing a ball, laughing and yelling. "Believe it or not, Jazz, there are still places in this universe where others are concerned when they see an injury because they don't want to see others in pain." The subtle chastisement hurt more than it should have and Jazz looked at the ground for two steps before he had to look up so he didn't walk into anyone.

They moved to a part of town where the whimsy took more of an edge. The lit up signs above ground level doors for unwinged mechs flashed garish red and white, one or two names he recognized from a Gygaxian dialect made him lift his optic ridges. "This is the part of cities I'm used to seein'," he commented as they walked past a club with a line out the door of young mechs and femmes hardly wearing any armor despite the spring chill in the breeze. A Poly standing outside another club whose name left nothing to the imagination gave him a flirty smile. "Primus, who named these clubs, I might actually _blush_. I thought Praxians were prudes." He did a double take at another sign.

Prowl's laugh turned a couple heads. "I don't know who started that ridiculous rumor, but that has never been true."

"I, uh, see that," Jazz said twisting his head around to watch a winged femme pay for two mechs lounging on a corner. "It's not even _subtle_." He gave Prowl a hard-assessing look when he looked back at him.

Prowl's laugh was louder, the tips of his wings fluttering. "Paid interfacing is legal in Praxus, Jazz. Here, this is where we get the tickets to the ferry and then we can get you off the street and protect your innocence." Jazz rapped his knuckles against Prowl's leg and leaned against the wall as he tapped buttons on the kiosk.

The street was lit mostly by the flashing club lights keeping everything in a soft red glow. The buildings were still built from colorful stones and kept their unique shapes, but there was less whimsy and more sensual allure. There were just enough dark nooks to tempt a passerby to spend a few credits on a pleasuremech. The heavy throb of bass coming from the clubs vibrated through the streets and there was plenty of high grade to lower inhibitions. Jazz watched two more interfacing transactions happen before the kiosk beeped and Prowl stepped back.

Prowl took one look at his face and a breathtaking impish smile lit up his optics. Jazz's spark stuttered. He had seen Prowl's rare full smiles and they always made him pause, but the unrestrained delight and mischief sparking in his optics, the hint of fang sliding over his lower lip, sent a warm blush from his spark to his face. Unfamiliar shyness had him glancing away but an answering smile was on his face.

"Don't look up," Prowl said, that smile that fit right in with the heavy bass and high grade and dark corners still on his face.

Jazz looked up. It took three seconds for his processor to decipher what his optics were seeing and then a high squeak left his vocalizer. Prowl's laugh was full of the same delighted mischief as his optics. A few passing by glanced at him while Jazz tried to find a word—or any words—to yell at him. A winged femme fluttered over and said something but Jazz was still hissing nonsensically at Prowl and didn't pay attention. She didn't give him much of passing glance anyway, her bright gold optics on Prowl. Prowl shook his head and look of disappointment passed over her face and she left. Sliding a warm arm around his waist he pulled Jazz along with him, still laughing, fangs catching the flashing club lights.

 **oOo**

Ratchet stood outside the ridiculous hotel shaped like a feather in Anyan while the Prime arranged their rooms for the night. Tourists streamed around him juggling luggage. He would admit surprise at how _many_ tourists there were. Domestic tourism he expected, even with their stupid building designs, Praxus was a beautiful city-state with regions that varied from tropical to tundra and everything in between. But he could hear Iaconian Standard, a Polyhexian dialect, and even a few snippets of the whispery musical language of Vos. _Everyone_ was visiting Praxus. And they all seemed to be in a jovial mood that grated on Ratchet's relays. And why was he out here with all this good cheer? Because his two glitchiest patients decided to take on a psychopath while they were still slow dancing with death.

He was going to kill them both.

Ironhide was off in Tar'xian with Blaster looking for a lead, though that was only a formality. They all knew neither Jazz or Prowl would be stupid enough to go to a town where most of the _Ark_ crew was known. First Aid had wanted to come, guilt still plaguing him despite Ratchet's assurance that their escape had been no fault of his.

He was going to kill them both for that alone.

The Twins, oddly enough, had volunteered to come along. Even more surprising, the Prime hadn't argued against it. Bluestreak had thrown a rage fit to make Megatron proud when all senior commanders denied his coming on the mission. The only upside to it was he wore himself out just like a sparkling and fell into recharge. The search teams had made a hasty exit. Guilt needled him about that underhanded move, but Bluestreak had no business being anywhere near Shockwave. So now he was stuck searching Praxus for two idiot patients with the Prime and the Twins. And all of these fragging _tourists_.

He was going to kill them both twice.

"Isn't this neat," Sideswipe chirped bouncing up next to him. Ratchet hissed. Undeterred, Sideswipe grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the busy sidewalk. "C'mon, the suns are just setting let's go look at stuff." Ratchet dug his heels in, pit bent on being angry for the entirety of the mission. Sunstreaker grabbed his other arm and between the two of them they managed to scoot him along.

"Do you know what everyone's saying?" Sideswipe asked, still ignoring Ratchet's mood. His head jerked back and forth as he tried to find a language he understood. "What are they talking about? Everyone seems so happy. Did something good happen?" They pulled him out from under the overhang of the hotel and the main crush of tourists and headed for the small town center. There didn't seem to be any straight lines in Praxus. Streets and sidewalks meandered like overcharged mechs. It just made getting anywhere take twice as fragging long.

Ratchet wasn't sure how or why Anyan had become such a tourist destination, but he was fragging well sick of it. "I'm not going into town with all these glitchy tourists walking around," he snapped.

Sunstreaker said, "You're a tourist too, now be glitchy and walk around with us." Sideswipe snickered and Ratchet hissed at them again. "Besides, the femme at the front desk said the next town is Hanghi and it's a port town so they'll have lots of bars." Prime would tie him to the berth to keep him away from the bars. As if the last two orns hadn't earned Ratchet at least one glass of high grade.

"C'mon, Ratch, you can read some of the signs, can't you? We can't read any of them an' we wanna see if we can find some more pretty art stuff." Sideswipe gave his wrist a more insistent tug and Ratchet growled but while he was still ready to throttle Prowl and Jazz he could tuck that back for later. He couldn't stay mad at the Twins when it was obvious Sideswipe's excitement was genuine.

Feather shaped buildings, buildings in rainbow colors, streetlights of iridescent metal that ended in shining stars with lights at their center, and streets a mosaic of precious stones and metals. It had to look like something from a dream to them. Often the colonies they visited were struggling; ravaged by disease and starvation, smoking rubble from carpet bombs. There was no laughter in those places. Mechs walked down the street fearful of wing silhouettes. They didn't hold hands or take stills of odd buildings, they didn't buy their little ones treats from street vendors.

He gave in to the two and started walking normally. He couldn't read any Praxian, but there were sure to be a few signs in languages he knew; he could speak the Standard language of Polyhex, Gygax, Iacon, Ahnkmor, and Kalis. "They're happy because they're on vacation," he said. The Twins gave him a questioning look. "It's like shore leave for civilians. They take time off from work or school and go somewhere pretty and have fun for a few orns and then go home."

"So it's not a holiday or anything?" Sunstreaker asked, optics lingering on the streetlights. "How'd they do that?"

"I suppose if you're on vacation it feels like a holiday," he answered. "They make the streetlights with casts. I assume. They look too uniform to be hand done."

Sunstreaker nodded and reached out to touch one, careful not to scratch it with his augmented claws. "I didn't know you could make buildings like flowers. I wanna do that, Ratch. I wanna make pretty buildings, not just paintings."

Ratchet gave up on his bad mood and put an arm around Sunstreaker's shoulders, holding him close for a second. For two juveniles that hadn't known anything but fighting when Prowl brought them on board they had grown into themselves. He never would have imagined the half-mad, half-feral slaves would learn to speak as well as they did, much less that they would learn to think about the future and their roles in it. "I promise, mechling, we'll find a way to end this war," he said. "And when we do there will be a lot of places that will need pretty new buildings and paintings to go in them." Sunstreaker smiled, a hint of fang showing like there always was. Like there always would be because of the butchers that held him down and filed his teeth to frightening and unnatural points. Even in the midst of this war the two young adults had known more pain that most.

Prowl had risked his life to bring the Twins out of darkness. He'd given time and patience to scrape off the bloodied feral hides slavers had forced on the two young mechs and coaxed out two special sparks. Sparks with mischief whose fun sometimes had a sharp edge, but who had learned and embraced the ideals of loyalty and kindness, in their own way. "Here," Ratchet said looking at a sun shaped sign, "This is a Kalisian owned shop, they'll probably have some interesting musical instruments."

"You want us to look in a shop with things that make noise?" Sideswipe asked gleefully, pulling open the door.

An agonized groan left Ratchet. "Primus, I have well and truly glitched."

The Twins, flashed him matching grins of delighted evil and scampered through the door before he could scruff them and drag them away. With a weary sigh he followed them through, but a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

 **oOo**

Prowl took mercy on his scandalized optics and led them away from the garish flashing lights to a quieter part of town. The streets they walked varied from still warm pavement to worn flagstones to slippery cobblestones and the buildings became more ornate in design and decoration. Two of the buildings were checkered, one with onyx and a rusty red stone Jazz didn't know and the other with dark jade and softly polished larimar. There was a building shaped like a tree, long balconies creating the illusion of limbs; and there was one with a riot of colors shaped like an egg. "I've never seen a place like this," Jazz said as they walked down a cobblestone street. The streetlights were delicate braids of gilded steel that arched over the street and ended with silver fish holding lights in their wide mouths. Couples and groups strolled past them, many looking around like Jazz at everything there was to see.

"The bigger cities are even more elaborate," Prowl said, trailing his hand across a polished block of glittering sugilite. "Here they have to make sure the buildings can withstand the storms from the lake and the hard freezing of winter. Further south where they don't have the winds and cold the buildings can make even natives pause." He turned down a small alley so narrow his wings hardly fit. Wind worn and time faded wooden signs stuck out from dark recessed doorways. Small solar lights did their best to illuminate the words, but many of them were in desperate need of new paint.

Prowl stopped under a sign shaped like a ship, if there was ever writing on it, it had long since been washed away. Knocking twice, he stepped back a polite distance. "What's this?" Jazz asked. Windows all up and down the alley were open to the fair night spilling laughter and music into the air. "A little bit of everything," Prowl said. "Those who work the ferries and docks use them as boarding houses, if you're looking to charter a private boat you can post the details at any of these little places and word will get out, locals use them as hotels if they have early ferries to catch or short business trips. And if you don't want to deal with all the chatty questions a regular hotel is likely to ask, they are good places to remain unseen." The door opened revealing not a winged Praxian like Jazz expected but a heavy Simfur.

Most of the Simfur's Jazz knew were either grouchy like Ironhide or blowhards like Cliffjumper so he found himself off balance when the one in front of him greeted Prowl with a smile. It only took a breem of conversation before the Simfur stepped back and Prowl motioned for him to follow. Inside the lights were bright enough to see by but not jarring from the darkness outside. Pale grey stone that speckled with chips of quartz made up the floor and intricately stacked flat river stones made sturdy pillars at even intervals. The ceiling wasn't as high as Jazz expected for buildings built by winged mechs, but neither Prowl nor any of the others scattered through the room seemed to mind. Small tables that reminded him of the cozy lodge in Tar'xian were full of big heavy framed mechs and femmes. It looked like the _Ark_ 's rec room when the frontliners got off shift.

Someone whistled a greeting and he whistled back, searching for the owner of the sound. In the back corner where the light didn't fully reach he found a table of five Polyhexians with cards and drinks in hand. "Go make friends," Prowl said, nudging him with his wing. "I'll get us something to eat." Jazz flashed him a smile and started over to the table. He hadn't had to use his Jazzmech persona in earnest in a few kels but he didn't have to remember it. The boisterous greeting the table gave him when he pulled up a chair brought a genuine smile to his face. Dealing him into the game they introduced themselves and peppered him with a hundred questions in the time it took Prowl to arrive. Prowl sat on a stool, wings still held off the ground, but more relaxed than he'd been in septorns.

"You want in?" one of the Polyhexians asked.

"I think I'll watch. I learned my lesson in playing cards with Polyhexians when I was young," Prowl answered getting another round of raucous laughter from the table. Jazz laughed with them, not pretending, not counting the breems until he could leave. He glanced at Prowl and the Polyhexians calling each other cheats and swindlers and laughing. He let himself relax.

In this moment, he wasn't a soldier or a director or TIC. He was just another traveler. His companion was a soft spoken Praxian with silver wings whose laugh could turn heads and who had a well-hidden streak of wicked mischief, a will of tempered steel, and a spark made of star fire and winter ice.

 **oOo**

Blaster did his best to stay out of Ironhide's way, but he didn't like being alone. It was too quiet when he was alone and when it was too quiet he could hear his thoughts. He could hear the needling voices clearer and they made his spark hurt and his processor throb and he just wanted to go to recharge.

But he had to find Jazz. He wouldn't let Shockwave hurt Jazz. Not again. He'd fragged up when he sent that signal. It was so stupid. He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking at the time. He could remember being mad, but he'd just wanted Jazz to come back so he could be safe.

 _Idiot_

 _Glitch_

 _Failure_

Covering his audios even when he knew the voices were coming from inside he shook his head hard. He didn't mean to get Jazz hurt. It had been an accident. He just hadn't thought it through. He'd just wanted Jazz to be safe. It was an accident. Taking a deep breath he pushed open the door to the bar and blessed noise washed over him. It was getting dark but Praxians didn't seem to recharge. He'd been to this bar only once before. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he just needed noise. The noise made it easier to not think.

 _Stay here, let Ironhide leave you_

 _He'll run away, just like everyone else_

 _No one wants you_

He didn't cover his audios again. Instead he moved to the bar and sat on a stool next to a loud, slightly charged, group of winged and unwinged Praxians. It was harder to hear the voices and he turned on some music to add to the noise. Steeljaw curled up under the stool, content with sniffing any stray scents and Eject flew up to the rafters where he didn't feel as cramped. He gave his order and looked over the crowd. They all looked like they'd be in their chairs for awhile. As long as he ate slow and ordered a drink or two he wouldn't stand out. He wouldn't have to go back to the quiet inn room in the dark with his thoughts.

He could go back just as Ironhide was getting up and they'd start the trek to meet up with the Prime and Ratchet and the Twins. He didn't know where they were, but he was hoping they were still somewhat close. Ratchet was still furious and Sideswipe was talking more than Bluestreak about all the things to see in Praxus. It wouldn't be quiet like it was with Ironhide.

And they would find Jazz. And Prowl. And then…and then he didn't know. He just wanted to keep Jazz safe. He hadn't meant to get him hurt. He'd just wanted to keep him safe.

A femme dark as night with deep purple optics and wings sharp as knives slid onto a stool next to him. He jumped a little because neither Steeljaw nor Eject had told him someone was approaching. Bafflement answered his annoyance. They hadn't seen the femme either. The bartender blinked twice and made a strange gesture with his wings that looked like a bow. He'd never seen Prowl do that before.

"You seem to have a great deal on your mind," she said in a low voice that had a business-like snap to it. Kind of how Prowl talked when he was issuing orders before they deployed.

"Doesn't everyone sittin' alone at a bar have a lot on their mind?" he countered. The ghost of a smile played across the femme's face.

"You have me there, young mech." She didn't add anything else and Blaster was glad she wasn't going to be chatty.

But he was glad she was sitting next to him. He didn't feel as lonely, even if they weren't talking. The bartender set his food down in front of him and gave the femme a mug of something steaming. He hadn't been paying attention when he ordered because he hadn't really been hungry. But the food smelled good and a spark of happiness clawed its way out of the dark. Praxians made great food. This was something with thin flat noodles topped with a mixture of vegetables and meat diced so small they looked like confetti. A tiny dish of sauce sat on the side and he sniffed it cautiously. He'd ordered something a few orns ago so spicy he thought he'd seared his nasal ridge.

"It's not spicy," the femme said, another smile on her face. "It's a sweet and sour dish, the vegetables are pickled and the sauce is sweet." That sounded weird and delicious. Blaster found a comfortable position on his stool and asked her a few more hesitant questions about the dish. For the moment, the noise and food was just enough to keep everything quiet.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** I had so much fun with this chapter. The awe and whimsy of Praxus is inspired by my first trip to Japan and all the fun bubbly emotions I had exploring the streets.

I hope everyone has a delightful, safe, and spooky Halloween! I'm doing NaNoWriMo next month—I'm _Writing_Fiend—_ so I don't know how much I'll get written on this in that time.

***Next Chapter is rated **M** for various sexy reasons***

As always, thank you for Reading, Reviewing, Following, and Favoriting!


	8. Chapter 8

Transcript #805

Solaris

Session 12

Are you going to stand in the doorway again, Solaris?

I just have to prove I've been here. There, you got that recorded. Bye.

But—

[Door closing]

—End Session—


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I'm pretty sure I said in the last update that this was going to be an M chapter…Yeah, okay, next chapter for sure. I got distracted talking about stars and suddenly this thing was 13,000 and I moved the fun stuff to the next chapter.

 **oOo**

' _Cause—oh—what a mess I'm in_

 _The levels of Hell I've been_

 _Tell me you'll stay_

 _To chase all the memories away_

 _I'll do anything_

 _To make things right_

' _Cause I don't wanna be_

 _Alone tonight_

 _The things I'm seeing_

 _When I close my eyes_

 _The visions aren't leaving_

 _They know where I hide_

 _I'm begging for mercy_

 _I'll barter my life_

 _If you could come back to my rescue_

 _I promise that it's the last time._

 _Digital Daggers ~ Alone Tonight_

 **oOo**

"This was a glitchin' waste of time," Ironhide growled in the predawn light. Blaster moved around in the background strangely quiet, Steeljaw and Eject following him like shadows. Ratchet hadn't gotten a good look at the young mech but his body language spoke of exhaustion.

Conversely, Ratchet was feeling better rested than he had in a vorn despite the early wake up. There were no patients to check, no emergencies to tend to, and if the Twins had nightmares they kept them quiet. The two pit spawns had kept him out almost until the moons were high and still there had been shops open. Mostly Polyhexian, but a few locals shrewd enough to realize some tourists maintained a nocturnal schedule kept their shops open as well. He hadn't wanted to guilt the Twins into returning to the hotel but a gentle reminder that they had to set off early to find Prowl reigned them in.

Optimus sighed and rubbed his optics. "We had to make sure. I'm worried about Hanghi, according to some helpful mechs, there's a ferry service out of there that serves over two dozen cities and towns." Optimus had still been awake when they returned, though he hadn't spent his time going in and out of shops. He'd gone to a couple tourist service desks and gotten information on the next town. And if Ratchet had to bet, he'd put his credits on Jazz and Prowl disappearing in Hanghi.

"Imagine, a brilliant tactician and an experienced spy have picked somewhere to go that will make them almost impossible to follow," Ratchet muttered. "Primus, at least Hanghi has a bar."

Ironhide snorted a hot gust of air. "You don't need to be anywhere near a bar," he snapped. Ratchet flared his fins and hissed. Blaster came back into frame and sprawled out on the berth behind Ironhide that looked like it hadn't been recharged in. Ratchet narrowed his optics. Any other time Ratchet wouldn't mind Blaster being elsewhere. But the split that had started to take hold when the whole fiasco with Prowl and Jazz started worried him. He'd hoped that having Jazz back would help alleviate the stress but the young mech was still quiet and withdrawn. He doubted Ironhide had done anything to coax out what fears the young mech was harboring. Ratchet hissed again, with more venom, directed more at himself and his inability to help the young mech than Ironhide.

"Ironhide, Ratchet, stop it," Optimus ordered with an exasperated sigh. "You two fight more than the Twins."

Sideswipe plopped down on the berth next to Ratchet and yelled, "Hey Blaster, who d'you think would win in a fight between Ironhide and Ratchet?" Ratchet and Ironhide both made annoyed sounds and Optimus tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Sunstreaker—finally—came out of the wash rack, armor gleaming. "Ratchet," he said without hesitation. Ironhide snorted again.

Optimus shot him and Ratchet a warning look. "Primus," he grumbled.

"You can't use Primus," Sideswipe said, as if Optimus was contributing to the inane conversation. "How are you supposed to fight a god?"

"You be Ratchet," Sunstreaker answered. The two dissolved into laughter while Ironhide looked more annoyed by the second and Optimus rubbed his optics again.

"I don't know if I want to be annoyed or flattered," Ratchet said. The Twins gave him bright smiles that, as always, held a hint of menace with their sharpened teeth. "Did you get that drum?" he asked.

"I got that drum," Sideswipe chirped. "Wheeljack said he'd teach me how to use it."

"Then I've decided I will be annoyed."

Sunstreaker snorted and Sideswipe bared his sharp teeth at him.

 **oOo**

Sunrise came too early for Jazz, but he pushed himself up when Prowl nudged him awake. "I got the early ferry," he said in a soft voice that didn't disturb the dark room. It was smaller than his quarters on the _Ark_ but cozier. There was only so much one mech could do to make steel walls and tile homey. Here there was a small desk with aged wood that looked as old as the building, dark timbers crisscrossed the ceiling, and the walls were a creamy white. There was only one berth and hard as Jazz tried he couldn't stop the flush of heat that went through him every time he thought about seeing anyone who knew.

They hadn't done anything but recharge, Prowl's steady spark in his audio keeping the nightmares away. Even Prowl had managed to recharge soundly. He was recharging better the farther they got from the ship. Prowl stretched his battered wings a little at a time. The gashes and missing feathers looked worse when they were open. At least closed the feathers overlapped more and caused shadows to hide the damage. "We need to stay another orn," he blurted. Prowl gave him a questioning look over his shoulder, his wings slowly folding in again. "You're _hurt_ , Prowl. Neither one of us should be out here, but you're worse off than I am. If we're going to do something this stupid you need to be closer to full strength."

"I can't, Jazz." His optics drifted to the shadows and while none of them skittered away from Jazz's optics he was certain the Praxian was looking at something. "I have to find him. And you don't speak any of the local languages. You will not get far on the other side of the lake. The port towns have a mix of all mechs, but the more rural you get the fewer you'll find that speak Iaconian Standard."

"How rural are we goin'?" Jazz asked, crossing his arms. "Because you sure as pit are not in any shape to be mountain climbing." Prowl crossed the room and lifted the shade. They'd gotten a room facing another building so there wasn't much to look at. Morning light came in though chasing away the rest of the dark.

"There is an easy to reach An'Shar settlement not far from Biardi."

"You are not—" Jazz started to say.

Prowl interrupted with every piece of fire, ice, and steel in him suffusing the words. "I am well aware of my limits, Jazz." Jazz couldn't find anything to argue with. All the words he wanted to say sounded weak and flimsy in comparison.

Silence fell between them but it wasn't the comfortable silence they'd always had. It was sharp and brittle. He didn't like it. He didn't like the way the silence cut against his exoform when Prowl's silences had before always been peaceful, a place to him to collect himself. "I know you're not weak," Jazz said softly, trying to dull the edge of silence.

Prowl sighed and his wings lowered almost to the floor. "I know you don't, Jazz. I'm sorry." He glanced at the corner again. With the morning light coming in there were no shadows left to gather but Jazz still felt there was something there. Something he could probably see if he wanted to. But shadows scared him. Shadows were where the Monster hid and he didn't want to see shadows that even light couldn't banish.

Prowl turned away from the window and came to stand in front of him. It would be so easy to slide his arms around Prowl's waist and pull him close, to lift his head and press his lips against Prowl's. He was so close. Jazz could feel his spark torn between reaching out and recoiling. That strange noxious mix of guilt, shame, and self-hate that had been plaguing him since he woke next to Prowl in the med bay making him look away. "We better get moving if we're gonna catch that ferry."

 **oOo**

Hanghi was something else. Anyan had been its own sort of Praxian whimsy, but this port city was something Ratchet had never seen. He kept his hands on the Twins, guiding them through the streets as they stared up in awe at the buildings glittering in the mid-orn light. "That one's purple, Ratchet! Have you ever seen a purple building? And look at that one! It's green and blue," Sideswipe said, optics bright and head twisting back and forth so fast he would've fallen over if Ratchet hadn't had a hand on his arm.

"Look, that one's a flower and that one's a fish," Sunstreaker said, no trace of his usual aloof reserve. If not for their contrasting armor there would be no telling them apart. Ratchet could almost see the feedback loop happening between their sparks as wonder and excitement overwhelmed them. Optimus looked back and smiled, a real smile without stress or sadness. Tourists just as excitable as the Twins walked slack-jawed on the sidewalk gaping at the ridiculous buildings. Overhead, winged mechs went about their daily business ignoring the chaos below.

"Never thought much of wings, but right now I'd give my medical coding for a pair," Ratchet growled as a throng of tourists blocked the sidewalk to take stills of each other in front of a relief sculpture of a sea monster on the side of a building.

"Who did that?" Sunstreaker asked in wonder as they inched past the group. "You can make stuff like that on buildings?" Ratchet kept a hand on his shoulder to keep him moving as he continued to look back, razor sharp intelligence and wonder bright in his optics. "Can you make sculptures that are buildings?" he asked Ratchet as he looked up at another building shaped like an egg and every color under the suns.

"That's a Wheeljack question, mechling," Ratchet answered. "I'm sure if you ask he'll help you design something like that." A shadow passed over the street and the Twins ducked back on instinct. Ratchet's hold on them kept them from bumping too many mechs, not that anyone noticed since they were all walking around like glitches staring at everything. "Easy, mechlings. There's no danger." The Twins took him at his word and straightened and that threatened to get through the hard shell of his spark. The Twins didn't trust easily but they'd decided to trust him like they trusted Prowl.

"Wow, is that a seeker?" Sideswipe asked following the mech as he flew toward the lake. "He's bigger than Thundercracker."

"He's bigger than a transport," Sunstreaker said.

Ratchet huffed a laugh. "Super Heavy seeker class. Not very common but they're out there." The mech kept below the flurry of winged traffic, his massive wings keeping him aloft with slow, graceful strokes. A wave of heads turning followed his shadow.

Sideswipe wrinkled his nasal ridge. "Super heavy? Who came up with that stupid name? I'll bet Ironhide's heavier. It's the wings that make him so big."

"Doesn't have anything to do with their weight," Optimus said over his shoulder. "They get their class designation based on total weight they can carry in flight for a specific distance. Something like five plethron, I think."

Interest piqued but still distracted by some of the colors and shapes of buildings they did start paying more attention to where they were walking so Ratchet didn't have to steer them like sparklings. "Is that far?" Sunstreaker asked. While they were ruthlessly precise in small spaces Both of them still had trouble visualizing long distances or estimating distances if they were looking at them.

"If you have wings and you're carrying Ironhide, yes," Ratchet said dryly. The two snickered and Optimus gave him a look telling him to behave. Ratchet ignored it. "Thundercracker is a heavy class," Ratchet said as they stopped at a crosswalk. "He can carry any two frametypes for at least five plethron. Once you get into the details of the weight classes it gets complicated based on how far exactly they can carry the weight, but generally, every seeker in the heavy class can carry themselves and two others at least five plethron."

The light changed and the mass of yammering tourists started across the street, dragging them along. "Super Heavy seekers can carry even more weight. Someone like that," Ratchet said nodding in the direction the seeker had flown in, "can carry pallets of stone blocks." Rapping his knuckles against a building of pale blue stone to show what he meant. "A lot of super heavy seekers work as construction couriers. They can carry those pallets from the quarries of Simfur all the way to Kaon." The Twins looked closer at the heavy blocks of stone as they passed another building.

"But how do you do that without droppin' one on somebody's head?" Sideswipe asked. "Why not use a regular transport, that seems safer." Ratchet could have laughed at Sideswipe—of all mechs—being concerned about safety. But for all the stupid pranks the mech pulled he was very careful to make sure damage would be light dents and scrapes if the wrong mech tripped the trap. Not that anyone else appreciated just how much care he put into his traps to make sure they didn't snap a limb or need welds to fix.

"They have special crates they're packed in," Ratchet explained. "And they don't bring up all the blocks for the building." He pointed up at another building's ornamental cornices. "Those likely came from Simfur, but they were carved by Praxians. So if you only need two or three blocks its cheaper to get a Super Heavy seeker to bring up those two blocks than it is to hire a transport. Or let's say they decided to renovate a building somewhere and need to replace half a dozen blocks. They can take the time to hire a transport and file a flight plan and make sure there's someone to pick up the shipment from the airfield and bring it to the building site, or, they can hire a Super Heavy seeker and have it brought directly to the site for half the price and hassle."

"Shipyards use them quite a bit," Optimus added. "I know Wheeljack is good friends with some from when he was outfitting ships with galactic engines. Two or three of them could lift the engines into place and hold them while welders fixed them into place. It's really something to see. You wouldn't think mechs and femmes smaller than Ratchet could move something that big."

Sideswipe pressed against a building as if he was testing his strength against it. "Different physiology, Sideswipe. You could train your whole life and never be able to move that much weight." Tapping his arm he said, "Each limb has several dozen cables we use for movement. They're thick and while firmly attached to our frame structures, there's a very clear divide between cable and frame. Winged mechs have different cables. Theirs are small, but instead of a few dozen there's hundreds of them and they lay flat against their frame structures almost like they're part of the frame structure themselves."

Optics wide and not paying attention to where they were going again, Ratchet took them in hand as they listened, steering them through the crowd. "Each one of their cables has the same strength and resiliency as one of ours, but since there are so many more they're capable of moving disproportionately large weight and without gaining the heavy alloy we get when we do the same labor. So, Starscream, even as a Light seeker has strength equal to one of you even though he's half your size."

"That's why Prowl's so heavy? 'Cause he's got those special cables too?" Sideswipe said. Ratchet nodded. "Sometimes Praxians get a mixed bag. Bluestreak has a combination of the thicker unwinged mech cables and thinner winged mech cables. Once he reaches adulthood he'll be bigger than Prowl but I doubt he'll be stronger."

"So Prowl really _can_ throw us around if he wants to?" Sunstreaker said suspiciously. "He's not just threatening us like Ironhide does? He really can pick us up and toss us across the room?" Ratchet laughed at the dawning realization on Sideswipe's face. Wishing he could hear what the Twins were undoubtedly yelling at each other over their spark bond he herded them to a small side street where the crowd wasn't as thick.

"Keep that in mind next time you feel like annoying him," Optimus rumbled.

Sunstreaker snorted. If anything he'd try harder to annoy Prowl just to see if the Praxian really could throw him across a room. "He's right, we should stick to Ironhide from now on," Sideswipe said seriously.

"I agree," Ratchet said. "You should only annoy Ironhide from here on out."

Optimus rubbed his optics. "Ratchet."

The Twins were back to exploring Hanghi, the small side street quite quaint even by Ratchet's standards. Smooth pale blue cobblestones polished by an eon of foot traffic ran straight up to recessed doorways. Some windows open to the spring orn had flower boxes with early blooming flowers perfuming the air. Long tendrils of winter hardy plants overflowed from a few reaching all the way down to the doorways. In the distance, a ferry whistle sounded. The Twins paused for a second and gave Ratchet a questioning look.

"Ferry," he supplied. "The lake makes getting to other towns difficult, so there's a large ship that carries mechs to them." The Twins nodded and when the whistle sounded again, ignored it.

"We'll be able to find a place down one of these little streets tonight, Blaster and Ironhide should catch up this evening. Today we'll have to see if we can catch a break and figure out where Jazz and Prowl have gone," Optimus said as the Twins cautiously approached a sunning cybercat hoping to pet it. Optimus and Ratchet shared a look but didn't call the Twins away.

Most of their lives had been made up of brutal training and violent combat. Praxus with its strange buildings and bright colors and friendly cybercats was a unique experience. And Ratchet hoped that one orn that wouldn't be the case. He wanted to see what extraordinary things Sunstreaker could create when his life wasn't shadowed by death. He wanted to know what problems Sideswipe could solve that would move their species forward. He wanted them to be the excited and open mechs they were right now.

 **oOo**

"How long's this ride?" Jazz asked still feeling the underlying prickle of silence that had followed them from the inn to the dock. Water lapped against the ferry, the waves on the lake could've been mistaken for oceanic but didn't carry the telltale sting of brine. Ahead and to the west mountains rose up, their jagged peaks blue in the morning light. The suns rose above the rolling fields and orchards to the east. Early morning birds flitted along the shoreline searching for breakfast. Anglers getting a late start climbed over the smaller boat tethered to the dock, dropping crates and traps, and yelling in a mishmash of languages.

A whistle sounded and the crew of mostly Polyhexians milling on the dock untethered the ferry with experienced quickness. The whistle sounded again as they set out across the lake. The engines, at a low rumble while they were docked, grew to thunder as the ship left the dock behind and headed for the distant mountains.

The ferries in Polyhex were wide flat bottomed boats with small engines that were navigated mostly by Polys in the water swimming ahead to watch for obstructions. It was a leisurely experience Polyhexians themselves rarely used but frametypes not meant for swimming long distances used daily. He'd taken a ferry a few times when he was small and didn't have the endurance for the swim and his creators had their hands full with other things. It still struck him as odd being on top of the water when he could easily slip in and swim alongside or ahead.

This ferry wasn't the quaint little boat he'd been expecting. This was like a Polyhexian freighter. Six decks, five with private quarters and one with a common area with fold out berths. There was a small café space with food and drinks for sale and wide spacious decks with chairs and tables.

They were on the lowest private quarters deck, the water not that far from Jazz's fingertips and he had a feeling the winged mech next to him had done that on purpose. It made his spark flare and self-consciousness overwhelm him. After his creators had died he'd learned the hard way the only one who was going to take care of him was him. He didn't know what to do anymore with someone who did things for no other reason than he would like it.

"Do you want to go in?" Prowl asked a knowing smile in his voice. "This will be our top speed. It will take two orns to reach Biardi. As long as the weather holds. Storms blow in quickly on this lake with the mountains being so close. If that happens we'll have to make port at the nearest city and continue once it passes."

"You know how fraggin' cold that water is?" Jazz said with a grimace. "I'll freeze my fins off." But he might slip in closer to mid-orn. Even if it was spark freezing cold it would be _so nice_ to stretch his limbs. "Thank you," he said softly. He felt Prowl look at him but he couldn't find the courage to look back so he kept his optics on the water. "I know you prolly don't like bein' this close to water."

A warm wing slid over his shoulders when a strong breeze cut through and Jazz looked up at the distant jagged cut of land. Sliding more under Prowl's wing to keep the chill off, his arm pressed against Prowl's. He caught himself before he made space. The small line of extra warmth pressing against him made his spark pulse easier. Prowl didn't move and the quiet that settled between them was heavy with a thousand things but neither one broke the silence.

 **oOo**

Praxus whisked by as Blaster and Ironhide rode in silence on their way to Hanghi. The inter-city light transit system had been restored to the major cities and transport hubs but the smaller towns were still mostly out of reach. Reminders of how close the Decepticons had come to annihilating the proud city-state still scarred the landscape. Dense forests budding with spring would suddenly open revealing charred clearings, the blackened bones of trees slowly being overtaken by new growth. There were fields pockmarked with detonation holes where missiles had struck. Against the crisp white and pale blue mountains silhouettes of fallen cities and towns could still be seen.

 _GlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitch_

Ironhide didn't talk. Blaster didn't try to talk. Optics focused out the window he didn't see most of what streaked past. His aft was starting to hurt from sitting so long, but he couldn't find the will power to stand up and stretch. His processor ached from his lack of recharge but he couldn't bring himself to close his optics. Exhaustion dogged him but he refused to let his optics stay closed. It was too quiet on the outside and too loud on the inside.

 _DieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDie_

Ironhide had no such issues and dozed with his arms crossed on his chest and his feet kicked out in front of him. Steeljaw draped over Blaster's arm as he stared out the blur of color that was Praxus. Eject drowsed on his shoulder, his head tucked under a wing and his dreams like the soft caress of wind in the back of Blaster's mind. It was almost enough to fool him into recharge, but the darkness howled at him every time he closed his optics.

 _FailureFailureFailureFailureFailureFailure_

A cool breeze across the back of his neck pulled him back to his surroundings. Blinking slowly he looked up and jumped a little when he saw the Praxian femme he'd talked to at the inn last night sitting across from him. Steeljaw's nose twitched and Eject was startled enough he fluttered up to the luggage rack clacking his beak. Bewilderment and a hefty dose of fear chased away the shadows and nagging thoughts. Steeljaw growled, mane sparking and ears pinned back.

"Lovely, isn't it?" she asked, not paying attention to Steeljaw's threat. "The scars will never quite leave, but they're healing." The afternoon light didn't alleviate how dark her frame was. It was like talking to a shadow.

"Why are you following me?" Blaster asked, a faint tremble in his voice. No one snuck up on him. _No one_. Not even Jazz could get by Steeljaw and Eject. And this femme had done it twice in as many days. Steeljaw maintained he smelled nothing, he still smelled nothing. Even though he was looking at the femme, to his nose, it was like she didn't exist. Eject was at as much of a loss as Blaster as to how she sat down. He swore the seat had been empty but after he blinked she had been there. If this was new cloaking tech, it was something _everyone_ needed to know about.

The femme continued looking out the window as Blaster had done. She turned to him with that faint smile that reminded him of Prowl. "I don't follow anyone. I am in all places where light and shadow play."

Blaster glanced at Ironhide who still hadn't woken up. He had no idea the trigger happy mech was capable of deep recharge. But of course, when there might actually be a problem, it was going to take a natural disaster to wake him. "Okay. Then what do you want?" If he could keep her talking he could keep her distracted while Steeljaw pressed back into the shadows under the seats and set to waking Ironhide.

The femme looked out the window again. "I want for nothing," she said simply. The weird enigmatic sentences were getting old, but he could play that game.

"If you didn't want something, you wouldn't be here," he said.

"What makes you think I am here because _I_ want something?" she countered. "What do you want, Blaster?"

He flinched back. "How do you know my name? Who are you?" Eject stayed on the luggage rack, wings partially spread, ready to attack if the femme blinked the wrong way. Steeljaw swatted Ironhide's foot but the big mech stayed in recharge. If the femme had managed to slip him something the whole situation was going to go very badly for him. He knew how to fight, it was standard training for everyone in the army, but that didn't mean he was very good at it. The femme's knifelike wings rested easily on the seats like pieces of shadow. He'd seen Prowl use his wings in fights on occasion and they could cause damage.

The femme looked directly at him again, the innermost circle of her optics glowing with pinpricks of diamond white light. Her not-quite-there smile softened her sharp features for a moment. "Here, they call me Kanashimi."

A loud blast from the train horn snapped Blaster's head up with a startled yelp. Steeljaw's claws dug into the armor on his leg where he'd been napping. Eject shot off his shoulder and almost clipped a wing on the luggage rack and had to spiral down for an emergency landing on Ironhide's shoulder when he bumped the ceiling. "Primus, mechling," the older mech said giving him a once over.

"W-what?" Blaster asked. "You're awake?" The seat across from them was empty. Not even a stray feather left behind.

"Been awake. You okay?" Ironhide asked. Eject hopped off his shoulder and fluttered down to Blaster's lap where he could snuggle between him and Steeljaw. Both of them still trembled and searched the small area for the femme. Steeljaw's nose told him no one but Ironhide had been with them, but he hadn't been able to smell the femme last night either. Eject's sharp eyes saw through the shadows under the seats, even though the space was too small for the femme to fit. He stretched his wings and fluttered over to the empty seats, pecking at the fabric. Steeljaw slunk off his lap and followed the hawk, swiping at the shadows and sniffing around the floor. Ironhide lifted an optic ridge.

"There was…we tried to wake you," Blaster stuttered. "There was someone there, she knew my name." The train horn sounded again but he didn't jump.

"You dozed off half a joor ago," Ironhide said. "Not surprised you're havin' weird dreams, this whole city-state is a damned fever dream." His optics narrowed as the train slowed entering the city of Hanghi. The buildings closest to the tracks were painted optic searing colors and ranged in shape from the usual square all the way to hexagon, like fluorescent honeycombs. Winged mechs swooped through the air carrying packages and bags and checking datpads like mechs on the ground did.

"This is our stop, grab those two. These trains don't do much more than slow down," Ironhide grumbled as he slowly stood, his old joints creaked as he got to his feet. All along the train car others were pulling down bags and lining up down the aisle for a quick exit. None of the mechs and femmes were winged and none were the inky black of shadows. Still a little shaky, Blaster called for Eject and Steeljaw to leave off their investigation and get ready to disembark.

The train platform was crowded but orderly. Bright lines of inlaid stone sectioned off the platform for embarking and disembarking lines. Despite Ironhide's grumbling, the trains didn't linger at the station because there was no reason. As soon as the last mech stepped off the train the lines waiting to board moved forward. In only a few breems the only mechs on the platform were those heading into Hanghi. The train whistle shrieked once and the door smoothly slid shut. With a quiet hum, the train accelerated out of the station.

The station itself was shaped like the lead engine of a train and done in scintillating jade tiles. Ironhide charged through the crowd, not paying attention to the décor. Eject perched on Blaster's shoulder while Steeljaw kept between his feet so he didn't get his tail smashed by luggage or sideswiped by feet. Bright lights lit signs for the various exits. Blaster searched the crowd for any Praxians with inky wings, but there were only a handful of winged mechs in the station. Those he saw were scanning the crowd or greeting unwinged mechs and heading for the exit.

"Let's go Blaster, the crowds don't get any better," Ironhide rumbled as he made a sharp right to a stairwell. Blaster read the sign, but the street names didn't mean anything to him. He'd never been to Praxus. Until he joined the army, he'd never left Iacon. Steeljaw galloped up the steps and Eject lifted off his shoulder heading for the patch of sky at the top of the stairwell.

Ironhide was right about the crowds. The streets outside of the station were a sea of unwinged mechs with small islands of free space where winged mechs were taking off or landing. Steeljaw immediately retreated to Blaster when it was clear his tail was still in danger of an accidental step. Bright early spring sun glittered on buildings and Eject flitted among the wings in the sky.

Stone glittered, metal shone, winged mechs filled the sky, their feathers like confetti as they gracefully dipped and wove around each other in the sky beginning to color with sunset. Steeljaw kept his nose to the ground giving Blaster more time to crane his neck back and stare at _everything_. Tar'xian had been lovely, like an instrumental ballad; Hanghi was _loud_ , a pop song remix with boosted bass. His optics stung because he was scared to miss something if he blinked. Scents came at Steeljaw faster than he could decode them. There was, of course, food, but there were also the crush of mechs around them and all the different wares in the vibrant buildings. It didn't seem to be like Iacon where the city had different districts. Here there were banks and bakers right next door to each other. Boutiques and travel agencies across the street from City Hall.

Blaster couldn't believe Ironhide didn't stop and stand in awe at each building they passed. It was like the big mech was immune to the sensory overload that was Praxus. And this was a _small_ city. He couldn't imagine what the big cities looked like. Steeljaw still kept between his feet not so much to keep his tail from being stepped on now, but because he wanted to gawk with Blaster. Ironhide didn't slow down even when the crowd thickened. Blaster was tempted to stop and see how long it took the big mech to notice.

Steeljaw's head swiveled back and forth, his nose catching every stray scent and his paws itching to chase them all down. Eject soared among the winged mechs in the sky where the buildings were even more fantastic. There was a building from the top that looked like a bird with its wings spread, another was curled like a wave. And they were all a rainbow of colors. Eject swooped down to land on his shoulder every few breems to give his optics a break.

"Let's go, Blaster. We're meeting them on the other side of town," Ironhide barked. "With this crowd it'll be sunset before we get there," he added, not bothering to lower his voice. No one paid him any attention. Blaster didn't speed up and Ironhide didn't slow down and the distance widened between them.

With the cacophony of colors, Blaster tried to watch for the dark femme, but his head was spinning from everything he was seeing as well as the sensory input he was getting from Steeljaw and Eject. He was going to have to stop soon and find somewhere quiet and dark until he was settled again. "'Hide, I…I need to sit down, I think." A tremor shook his hands and his optics had a harder time focusing. Eject landed on his shoulder with a heavy thump and an exhausted croak. Too much. It was all too much. Tar'xian had used more timber and grey stone to match the mountain. Hanghi though was the most vibrant place he'd ever been both in color, movement, and smells.

He didn't think Ironhide heard him, but the big mech looked over his shoulder to make sure he was keeping up. When he saw Blaster lagging even farther behind he stopped and waited for Blaster to stumble his way forward. Giving him a quizzical look he didn't immediately start walking again but stepped off to the side, mostly out of the way of the people still streaming down the sidewalk. "What's wrong? Did you sneak high grade on the train?"

"T-too much. T-t-too much," Blaster said, hands beginning to shake harder. Steeljaw tried to cover his nose with a paw to cut out on the hundreds of new scents and Eject swayed on his shoulder with his optics shut tight. Still, the crush of sight, sound, and smell didn't relent. Ironhide took him by the upper arm and pulled him forward. Steeljaw couldn't close his optics like Eject and their visual input crossed. He stumbled against Ironhide when his perspective fluctuated between his height and Steeljaw's. Eject squawked and had to take flight from his shoulder so he wouldn't crash to the ground. Ironhide's grip didn't falter as he pulled Blaster through the crowd. Eject wavered in the sky with a feeble shriek.

An abrupt turn caught Blaster's shoulder on the side of a building and he tripped over Steeljaw who didn't turn with him. Steeljaw yowled and clumsily jumped to the side, rolling over once and almost getting stepped on again. "Blaster, get Steeljaw and Eject put away 'til we get you sorted. They're a mess," Ironhide ordered. It took more concentration than it ever had before, but Blaster managed to open the specialized compartment in his chest where his symbionts recharged. It took two tries to scoop Steeljaw up since his vision skipped between his perspective, Steeljaw's, and Eject's, but he got the little lion in hand and deposited him in his recharge chamber. Eject spiraled down and almost smacked into a wall before Ironhide caught him twisting some of his feathers. The hawk wasn't aware enough to care.

Once Eject was safely inside, Ironhide started pulling him along again. It was a little easier to focus with his symbionts safely ensconced in darkness. His vision still seesawed with every step and his pulse thudded in the back of his optics. Ironhide didn't let up as he pulled him around more corners and narrower streets until the noise pressing against his audios began to lessen and the colors blinding him softened.

Still trembling, he sat when Ironhide pushed him down. "Breathe, mechling. Just focus on the ground for a bit. Not much goin' on there." He did as the old mech instructed and he did start to feel better. The street was cream cobblestone with only a few variations of beige. Nothing overwhelming, nothing chaotic. Street noise was distant, a few birds could be heard. His breaths started to come easier. Steeljaw and Eject also began to settle, snuggling closer to the warm pulse of his spark. Since Magnus had forced them to be carried, they hadn't liked being cooped up, but now he could feel a thrum of appreciation for it.

Rubbing his optics with steadier hands he chanced looking up at Ironhide after a few breems. The big mech's head panned slowly, watching the street like they were in a combat zone and not a quiet residential area. Some of the doorways had small planters set out, already planted with small flowers, like the Praxians were trying will Spring into existence. The bright green leaves went well with the cream cobblestone and it didn't hurt his processor to take in the colors. Shadows were beginning to stretch down the narrow street as the blue sky bled to pink and orange. Lights came on in windows and a few mechs turned down the opposite end of the street wearing sleek polished armor. And it was quiet.

 _GlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitch_

There were still bright splashes of color in places but it wasn't the overstimulating chaos of the main street. "Feelin' better?" Ironhide asked. Blaster rubbed his optics again and while he was twice as tired he didn't feel like he was about to shake apart.

 _DieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDie_

He nodded and slowly got to his feet. Steeljaw and Eject both dropped into a light doze. Darkness crowded around them and in the quiet street it was hard to remember that they were right there.

 _FailureFailureFailureFailureFailureFailure_

 **oOo**

Ratchet stared out over the lake. The suns gilded the distant mountains and crowned them with delicate pink and bold streaks of purple. The hotel they were staying at was just as ridiculous as the last one. This one was a pyramid with all four sides different colors. But the small restaurant at the top had a balcony with an incredible view of the lake and mountains. Having been sparked and raised in Ahnkmor, large bodies of water still awed Ratchet. This one lake held more water than he'd ever seen when he was growing. And this wasn't even the largest of Praxus' lakes. The far shore ended at the foot of the mountains but even twenty stories up it couldn't be seen.

"Can we look around this place tonight?" Sideswipe asked, pulling him back from his thoughts. Sunstreaker didn't pay any attention to his brother, his optics still on the view. He hadn't spoken much since they'd come up to the restaurant and his optics hadn't strayed from the view.

"You're not getting another drum," Ratchet said, pinning the red mech with a glare.

Sideswipe put a hand to his chest and gave him a hurt look. "But I wrote you a song." Sunstreaker's mouth quirked into a smile but he didn't say anything out loud.

"I thought we agreed you were only annoying Ironhide."

Optimus looked away from the mountains and gave Ratchet his patented 'play nice' look. Ratchet rolled his optics while Sideswipe snickered. Sitting back in his chair, Optimus said, "Ironhide says they're half a joor away." Ratchet considered ordering a glass of high grade just to grind Ironhide's armor, but his better nature advised against it.

"Why's Praxus so…" Sunstreaker started to say and then faltered. Ratchet watched the Twins share a look as they silently worked out the best way to ask the question. After a few seconds Sideswip shrugged but Sunstreaker's brow stayed furrowed. "Why's it so…not crowded?" he asked slowly. "It's not empty, there are lots of mechs here, but it doesn't feel…it feels different from the other places we've been to. It's like stuff is close but not real close."

"More green space," Ratchet said when he figured out what Sunstreaker was trying to say. "Colonies have a park or some other green area mechs can safely enjoy, but that's usually in the center and the colony is built around it. Praxus breaks up their cities with a lot of small green spaces. That makes it feel bigger."

The Twins nodded together. "I like it," Sunstreaker said. "It doesn't feel like a cage. All the other places feel like a big cage and the buildings are so tall you can't see the sky and they make it dark all the time."

"I imagine winged mechs would do everything they could to keep their cities from feeling like cages," Optimus mused looking, not at the lake, but at the fringe of the city that ran along the shore. "You two have never been on a boat, have you?" he asked after a breem. Sideswipe looked excited but Sunstreaker wary when they shook their heads.

"The rooms are about the size of your _Ark_ quarters, Sunstreaker, no smaller. Not here at least," Ratchet said. "The ship rooms in Polyhex are like burial pods." Not all of Sunstreaker's apprehension left, but he did look more curious.

Optimus, too, looked at him with interest. "When did you get down to Polyhex?"

Ratchet huffed a tired laugh. "Before I got old." Optimus rolled his optics and the Twins scowled.

"That's not a story," Sideswipe said. "Why'd you go to Polyhex?" he asked instead.

"I had a friend in med school who lived there, he invited a group of us to stay with him for one of our breaks."

Sideswipe fell back with dramatic flare. "C'mon, Ratchet, you're supposed to tell us about all the trouble you got in."

"I'm not giving you ideas. You have enough of your own."

Sunstreaker snorted but perked up. "Hey Ratchet, do you know any Polyhexian stories? Like the one you told us about A'hiqa?

"No. The only thing I learned was how much high grade it takes to get me to do something stupid." The Twins laughed and Optimus gave him a disapproving frown. He glanced up at the door when his scanners picked up familiar bio-signs.

Ironhide moved through the crowd of mostly winged mechs like boulder through wildflowers. Always surrounded by heavy frontliners, his size was more impressive when he was among civilians. The smaller winged mechs didn't pay him much attention as he walked by even though his heavy steps vibrated the floor. Trailing in his shadow Blaster plodded along looking twice as exhausted as he had that morning. Ratchet did a more thorough scan of the younger mech. Steeljaw's and Eject's spark pulses were faint echoes in his chest but they were steady and strong, unlike Blaster's which was a few beats too fast and jagged. His chest had to be hurting and from the way he squinted in the setting sun his processor was also working overtime.

Ironhide sat on Optimus' other side. "I don't understand why they make all these buildings so weird. What's wrong with a square? It's been workin' since the dawn of time. They've got fish and flowers an' every other thing."

"You're right, Optimus, I don't know how we'd get by without his sunny personality and optimism," Ratchet said, not putting much thought into the insult, more concerned with Blaster who sat down slowly between him and the weapon's specialist.

"Ratchet, don't start or I'll send you straight back to the _Ark_ ," Optimus threatened. "I'm not going to have you two bickering the whole time." Blaster rubbed his optics but still squinted in the light.

Sideswipe gave Blaster a puzzled look, but Ratchet shook his head once when the red twin opened his mouth to say something. Still looking confused for another second he shrugged and his trademark devilish smirk appeared. "Hey Ironhide, you wanna know what kind of trouble Ratchet got into when he went to Polyhex."

"Sideswipe, you don't know what kind of trouble I got into while I was in Polyhex," Ratchet said with an optic roll. He put a hand on the back of Blaster's neck and gently massaged the tight cables. Blaster's shoulders tensed for a few seconds before they started to lower. It wasn't a fix, nothing he'd been able to do was a fix, it was just putting the true problem off. Blaster was slowly tearing himself apart and Ratchet wasn't sure how he could help the young mech.

"I know what kinda trouble he gets into now, I can guess what it was back then," the old mech rumbled. Blaster's optics started to close more frequently. Ratchet tugged him over so his head rested on Ratchet's shoulder. With a quiet sound Blaster's chest plates slid apart and his symbionts jumped out. Steeljaw hopped to the ground and stretched his back before shaking out his mane and sniffing the air. Eject landed on the table and stretched his wings a few times before flapping up and catching a breeze. Blaster's spark pulse started to slow to something closer to normal but it was still jagged and his face stayed troubled even as he drifted more into recharge.

"Ratchet, what's wrong with him?" Optimus asked quietly.

Ratchet let his head fall back. "Everything. Nothing. It's a complicated piece of dual-spark biology and psychology." Rubbing his face with his free hand he sighed. "Maybe I should've asked the An'Shar to look at him, they did miracles with Jazz and Prowl."

"Any sign of the two glitches?" Ironhide asked. It was hard to see, but Ratchet had spent centicycles watching the mech watch over his soldiers and there was well hidden worry in his optics as he watched Blaster recharge.

Optimus slowly shook his head. "I don't know where to begin looking. Jazz can disappear on his own no matter where he is and Prowl is a Praxian who knows the area. Maybe we'll get lucky tomorrow, but I think the trail might be cold."

"Wait," Ratchet said tapping his fingers on the table while he thought. "Prowl is a Praxian, but he's not from this area, he's An'Shar."

"He's from Praxus, stop bein' difficult, it's been a long enough orn," Ironhide growled.

Ratchet waved that off. "No, think about it. If we were in Simfur, Ironhide, and you went on the run, where would you go? If we were in Ahnkmor I'd go to the place I know best. Or, if I couldn't do that, I'd find a friendly clan. I don't know their exact traveling routes, but I know them well enough I could narrow down where to search for them."

"So Prowl can't go home because we know where that is," Sideswipe said slowly. "But if he knows where other An'Shar are then he can go there and they will help?"

"Praxus is a big place, Prime. Massive," Ratchet said, "and they're looking for one mech. Doesn't matter how good Jazz is or how well Prowl knows the area, they need access to information, but they can't risk going to the enforcers on the off chance one of them notifies the _Ark_ of their whereabouts."

Ironhide nodded and rubbed his thumb along a scar on his cheek. "We need to find out if there are An'Shar settlements in these mountains."

"But what if there's a lot, like over by Tar'xian?" Sunstreaker asked. "There's, like, six over there. If we start going from door to door they'll pick up on that and be gone again." They were quiet as they each thought about the problem. Providing a good distraction from their brooding thoughts, a server came by and left them menus and took drink orders. Ratchet kicked his better nature to the curb and ordered a glass of vintage Vosian high grade. Ironhide cut his scowl short when Optimus ordered the same thing. With matching delighted grins the Twins ordered mixed drinks with too much gallium and mercury for Ratchet's taste.

"Smokescreen might be able to help," Ratchet said after their drinks had been set down and their food orders taken. The server had brought a glass of water for Blaster even though he showed no signs of waking. The simple courtesies and kindnesses Praxians observed jarred Ratchet each time he encountered one. It had been ages since he'd seen someone do something for no other reason than to be nice. With resources in short supply in so many places kindness now was giving someone a good deal during bartering.

"This is really good," Sideswipe said sipping his drink. "How many can we have?"

"One," Ironhide said giving Optumus and Ratchet a hard look. Sideswipe pouted and Ratchet rolled his optics.

"What about Smokescreen," Optimus said, ignoring Ironhide.

Steeljaw returned from his exploration and hopped up on Ratchet's lap with a thrumming purr. Scratching along his back Ratchet said, "After we picked up Red Alert…long story short, Prowl said that each of the An'Shar settlements are named for different gods and goddesses. Each of them serves a function in the overall culture so if we can figure out which village coincides with which god, we might be able to narrow down our choices."

"Longshot," Ironhide said.

"It's more than we had a joor ago," Optimus added. "The mechs in Tar'xian were glad enough to name the nearby An'Shar settlements. Let's hope Hanghi is the same way."

 **oOo**

First Aid threw himself into the creaky, comfortable chair in the med bay office. Letting out a long sigh he stared at the wall and thought of all the times he'd seen Ratchet in the exact same position. He understood it now. Thoroughly. He had no idea how Ratchet did it. The three orns Ratchet had been gone had been some of the longest in First Aid's short life. He'd thought he'd reached the point where he was doing fifty percent of the work in the med bay.

He was reevaluating that now.

The full workload of the med bay was threatening to buckle him. Everything felt like it was one wrong step from spinning out of control. Ratchet was just a call away. _If_ something went wrong, he could call. But he didn't want to. Ratchet hadn't hesitated at all at leaving him in charge. He didn't want his mentor having second thoughts. He could do this. Anxiety made his fingers tremble. He curled his hands into fists and then pulled his knees to his chest and locked his hands around his legs. Pulling up an app on his HUD he set a slow metronome and forced himself to breathe deep.

"You're doing fine, little one," a soft voice said. Startled, First Aid snapped his head up and flailed in the chair for a second. A winged Praxian sat across from him. White wings with soft brushes of gold draped gracefully over the arms of the chair. Wide optics that echoed the gold in her wings watched First Aid with sympathy and a hint of amusement.

"I, uh, can I help you?" First Aid asked, trying to regain his composure. The Praxians that they'd had from the avalanche had all been discharged. No one had mentioned anymore coming onboard and Ratchet hadn't mentioned someone might stop by.

"I'm in perfect health," the femme said. "And you're doing fine, young healer. Trust your mentor and trust yourself." She gave him an encouraging smile and First Aid timidly returned it. Reaching across the desk her cool fingers brushed his cheek and soothing coolness spread through his spark. His breaths came easier and he felt like he might be able to recharge more than a joor without anxiety nightmares. The femme smiled at him again and stood up. "Recharge, the med bay will be quiet tonight."

First Aid rubbed his optics because recharge did sound _so_ nice. He hadn't had a decent night of recharge since Ratchet left. Most of that was his fault. He spent so much time checking and rechecking schedules, patient records, and checkups and then tossing and turning as he thought about it, he hadn't gotten more than a joor or two of recharge in three orns. When he looked up again, the femme was gone. First Aid blinked and sat up straight. "Hello?" he called. Silence answered him. Sliding out of the chair he felt all the aches and pains of being on his feet all orn settle in but he padded out of the office. "Hello?" he said in the med bay proper. No one answered him. All of his scheduled patients and checkups were done and no surprises had come in. There was no sign of the femme.

He did a walk through the med bay but he didn't find the femme or anyone else. Hoist came in as he finished checking the back. "You all right, Aid?" he asked.

"Um, yeah. I just…I'm pretty tired," First Aid said. Hoist pulled him into a brief, but firm, hug.

"You're doing great, Aid," he said softly. "Go get some recharge. I promise, everything will be fine."

 **oOo**

Blaster stirred after night fully descended. Steeljaw was once again off, trying to find the kitchen, but Eject perched on the back of Optimus' chair and watched mechs come and go. The bold colors of sunset had been replaced with cool dark sky alight with stars and the faint blush of cosmic colors.

Lifting his head he glanced around the table to get his bearings. He remembered the big pyramid and the elevator he and Ironhide had ridden to the top. But he couldn't recall sitting down or even what he ate. On cue, his tanks rumbled and Steeljaw pointedly informed him that he hadn't eaten. He'd come in, sat down, and gone right into recharge and the poor lion had been forced to try sneaking scraps from Sideswipe's plate. Eject had fared better, soaring down the lakeside and snatching scraps from the orn's catch as they were cleaned and prepared for shipping and sale.

"Are you hungry?" Ratchet's voice was always a little hoarse when he spoke quietly; the running theory was that his vocalizer didn't know how to make such soft tones. But Blaster's audios picked up on the faint rasp even when he spoke at normal volume or at the bombastic level he used when the med bay was full. Steeljaw left off his search for the kitchen and galloped back to Blaster, demanding he get _something_ before he withered away.

Blaster rolled his optics. "Steeljaw is," he said rubbing his head. Everything was so loud in the quiet.

 _GlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitch_

 _DieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDie_

 _FailureFailureFailureFailureFailureFailure_

"Still?" Ratchet made a low humming sound like he did when he was thinking over a problem. "They brought him a small bowl of something and he tried to snatch Sideswipe's dinner, too." The small lion slid to a stop by Blaster's feet and huffed. Sideswipe ducked down to glare at him under the table.

"According to him," Blaster said looking down at the lion, "he's on the brink of death, wasting away to nothing." Ratchet snorted and Ironhide glanced down at the lion looking less than impressed. A flash of amusement, clear and unfettered by the darkness gnawing at him, startled him. He hadn't felt that in kels. Not since…not since Jazz. Like lightning, the flash was gone, nothing but a searing imprint on the darkness creeping closer. "But, yeah, I'm hungry, too," he said, trying to push away the darkness.

 _GlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitch_

 _DieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDie_

 _FailureFailureFailureFailureFailureFailure_

He looked up at the spread of stars. He'd never seen so many in Iacon. The high skyscrapers and lights obscured all but the lucky and brightest; kind of like the mechs that lived there. He'd never understood how Ahnkmorians believed their ancestors became stars when he'd only seen a handful. It was easier to believe now that there were sparks spread out above them, reflecting diamonds on the lake while the moons began their slow climb casting silver shadows over the vibrant city. "The sky's really pretty here," he said. "I didn't think you could see that many stars in a city."

 _GlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitchGlitch_

 _DieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDieDie_

 _FailureFailureFailureFailureFailureFailure_

The others looked up or out across the lake where faint tendrils of green and purple swirled through the stars. "You'll see more in the next few orns once we get out of the cities," Ratchet said. "There's still a fair bit of light pollution here, not like Iacon, but enough to chase out the smallest."

"There's _more_ ," Sideswipe said, staring straight up. "How? Where do they all fit?"

"I don't know, that's a Wheeljack question," Ratchet said. Ironhide snorted, but he didn't add anything and while Optimus looked amused, he also didn't have an answer forthcoming.

"Why do Ahnkmorish say stars are sparks?" Blaster asked. "Somemech told me that, but I don't remember who."

 _GLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCH_

 _DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE_

 _FAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILURE_

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe cocked their heads to the side at the exact same time at the exact same angle. One of their weirder quirks that came out when they were confused. "I thought the stars were guardians?" Sunstreaker said, "Warriors or something that keep the dark away."

Sideswipe gave his brother and Blaster a confused look. "I thought they were the eyes of gods?" All three turned their attention to the older mechs who had varying amused expressions. Ironhide's was the hardest to read, but it was there in the way he leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. Optimus held out a hand for Eject to climb on before he too leaned back. The small hawk flapped up to his shoulder, all attention now on the table instead of the lively evening crowd around them.

"All true," Ironhide rumbled. "For the Gygaxians, there is a constellation called The Warrior and each of the bright stars is meant to be the spark of an ancient guardian who keeps our world separate from the realm of chaos."

"The Kalisians see the stars as the eyes of gods watching through the branches of the great tree that connects the mortal world to that of the celestial," Optimus said nodding to Sideswipe.

"And Ahnkmorish see them as sparks of the ancestors," Ratchet finished. "Ahnkmorish navigate the desert by the stars like Polyhexians travel the water. The ancestors are meant to be guides and to light the way even when the moons are dark." Blaster looked up at the sky again. They did, sort of, look like sparks.

 _GLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCH_

 _DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE_

 _FAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILURE_

Optimus also looked up. "I suppose no matter where you look, you'll find we've always looked to the stars as guardians, a way to make the night a little less frightening and the world a little less lonely. Ancient Iaconites, I believe, thought the stars were tracks left by the rivena that pulled the suns across the sky. They traveled the road so much their hooves wore holes through it so even when the suns were tucked away in recharge, their light still shone through." Blaster blinked in surprise. He'd never heard that story before. Though he'd never paid much attention to the ancient Iaconites in school.

 _GLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCH_

 _DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE_

 _FAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILURE_

"In Simfur, they were considered boons from the gods," Ironhide said softly. "If you were kind, generous, and caring; all the things they made us to be, they would take a star from the sky and you could have one wish. Because they knew if you were all those things, your wish would make the world a brighter place." He snorted and sat up. "I guess that's why they don't hand those out very often." Ratchet barked a short laugh, which was the closest they ever got to agreeing with each other.

Blaster looked up again, cynicism aside, he found himself warming to the idea that the stars were sparks. That maybe his creators weren't gone forever. They were somewhere high above keeping an optic on him. Other mechs, too. Friends that had been lost in the bombings, sickness, the war. They were all up there doing what they could to help him out. Steeljaw hopped onto his lap and looked up as well, purring. It was a nice thought, that he didn't have to be alone in the dark. His connection with Eject and Steeljaw pulsed strong and warm through his spark, like their own tiny stars in the darkness squeezing in around him.

 _GLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCHGLITCH_

 _DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE_

 _FAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILUREFAILURE_

 **oOo**

Ratchet woke up without knowing why. He lay still for a second, sorting through the information his latent sensors had logged and listening to the quiet room. The Twins recharged peacefully, curled up next to each other and they hadn't stirred since they dropped into recharge. Kicking on an active scanner he picked up Ironhide's and Optimus' bio-signs, steady in recharge in the next room. There was one spark missing though. Pushing off his covers he got up and padded across the room to the door, whisper quiet from centicycles of checking patients. The Twins didn't stir until the door opened, a quick blip on Ratchet's scanners that settled after a second.

In the hall he stood still and activated more scanners searching for his wayward patient. A slight arrhythmia across the hall took his attention for a few seconds. Accessing the medical database he matched the unique spark signature and made a note for their preferred medic to have it looked at. His long range scanners picked up Blaster's spark resonance just as the elevator chimed softly. Breaking into a light jog he kept his scanners on Blaster's spark as the elevator chimed again and whisked him up.

There weren't many places for the mech to go at the top of the hotel so he didn't worry when Blaster went out of range. His primary concern was that the mech was still in recharge. Praxian's weren't much for railings and the top floor was a long way up. Getting on the elevator he hit the button for the observation deck. He had no idea if the restaurant was open all night or if Steeljaw had pestered Blaster for more food. He was going to have to keep an optic on the little lion's weight. As many scraps as the crew fed him it was a medical miracle the symbiont didn't get stuck in Blaster's recharge chamber. The rich foods of Praxus he was indulging in weren't going to help matters.

The elevator opened to a cool early spring breeze that made him shiver. He wasn't meant for such cold weather and he didn't enjoy it. The restaurant was dark, the seating area roped off with small scroll signs giving the open joors. The ancestors still shone in the sky, but the suns weren't far off.

Without his flashy red and yellow armor, Blaster's exoform was only a gleam of gunmetal grey in the silver moonlight. It was always a little odd for him to see mechs without armor when they weren't hemorrhaging or broken by falls or shockwaves.

"Blaster," Ratchet said coming up next to the younger mech and putting a hand on his shoulder. He wouldn't say he missed Blaster's usual noise, but silence was an unnatural state for their loud and lively communications officer. "What are you doing out here? The suns will be up soon." And his bio-signs indicated if he had recharged it hadn't been restful. Blaster shivered and hugged himself. Ratchet pulled him into a loose embrace, one hand stroking down his back. "Blaster, I want to help you. I know your processor hurts, your spark hurts too, doesn't it?" Blaster tucked his head under Ratchet's chin and nodded, tremors running over his frame. "Talk to me, mechling," he murmured. "Let me help you."

"I messed it all up," Blaster said, his fingers curling against Ratchet's hip. "I messed everything up and everyone hates me." He pressed closer to Ratchet as if he was trying to hide.

Ratchet tightened his arms and the latent worry he'd had about the young mech rose a few levels. "No one hates you, Blaster," he said in a soothing voice, like he was trying to coax a wounded animal to trust him. "You're young. We all make mistakes when we're young. Primus, we make them when we're old, too. No one hates you for them."

Blaster did feel like he was running warmer than usual, a side effect of his processor and spark literally breaking in to pieces. It wasn't a seamless split as he'd had when Steeljaw, and later, Eject manifested. Dual sparks were unique in the way the dominant parts of their personalities could literally split off and become semi-independent. Steeljaw may look like a miniature cybercat, but he was still Blaster. Eject had the body of a small hawk but he was as much a piece of Blaster as an arm or optic. Mischief and curiosity free to roam and prank and explore all they wanted.

Unfortunately, that incredible ability had a few terrible downsides. Among them a predisposition for glitches, weakened spark structure, and personality disorders. In peace time the personality disorders had been as rare as the dual sparks themselves. In the middle of a war with so many traumatized orphans it was now the leading medical issue with dual sparks.

Blaster drew in a ragged breath and let out a hard sob. "I messed it up. I shouldn't've done it. I messed everything up and everyone hates me. They'll leave and it'll be so quiet and I don't want it to be quiet. I don't want it to be quiet. I don't want it to be _quiet_." Tears overwhelmed words and he held tight to Ratchet as if he was afraid he'd be pushed away. Ratchet's worry approached the redline. Smokescreen hadn't said a thing about the split being this far along. Making a note to throttle the glitch after he wrung Prowl's and Jazz's necks he turned his full attention back to Blaster.

Keeping one arm around Blaster so he didn't think he was being rejected, Ratchet pulled his head up. Frightened and exhausted optics streaked with optical fluid met his. But not all of Blaster's attention was on him. Part of him was distant like he was listening to someone else, someone none of them could hear. "Blaster," he said in a quiet yet firm voice. "I don't care what anyone else is saying, tell them to shut it and you listen to me." Blaster blinked and for a second the Blaster he'd known for centicycles looked back at him before the fear and doubt and pain moved back in. But he was listening, all of him. "I don't care what you did. It doesn't matter anymore." Startled, Blaster blinked again knocking loose a few more drops of optical fluid. "You know what you did wrong?" he asked. Blaster's face crumpled in a wash of pain and misery. The distant out of focus looking starting to come back. "Blaster, focus on me. You know what you did wrong, then don't fraggin' do it again. Apologize to whoever you must apologize to and forgive yourself, mechling. You have got to forgive yourself."

"I can't," he whispered, optical fluid streaking down his face. "I can't."

Ratchet hugged him tight and looked out across the lake where the suns were just starting to lighten the sky. "You have to, mechling. It's the only thing you can do."

"Please don't leave me in the quiet," Blaster whispered.

"Never, mechling. I'll always be right here."

 **oOo**

Water lapped rhythmically against the ferry and Jazz felt it and the steady spark under his hand lulling him into recharge. Prowl's battered wing draped over him, heavy with alloy and warm like summer even though they'd left the windows open. He wasn't sure if they would stay open through the night because it was still uncomfortably cold, but for now, the sound of the water and the cool breeze felt good. Jazz was pretty sure Prowl hadn't meant to fall into recharge, but the long hike and the early morning had taken their toll on him.

Shifting around so he could rest his head on Prowl's shoulder and drape an arm around his waist he sighed and tried to let go of everything winding his cables too tight. He was safe. Safe with Prowl. There was a whole lake of water— _cold_ water—a dozen steps away. The nightmares that had plagued him during Prowl's absence were beginning to retreat. They still sometimes snuck up on him, but it was easier to get away, to wake up. Breathing in Prowl's scent, flavored now by water and with less spice since he hadn't burned his incense in orns, he forced his body to relax one cable at a time.

Prowl made a soft sound in his recharge and his wing slid over Jazz, the feathers like warm silk across his exoform. Safe. They were safe. Closing his optics he listened to the steady thrum of Prowl's spark and slowly slipped into recharge.

Jazz found himself in a familiar room of creamy white stone lit by the steady glow of small orbs. "What the—" he started to hiss before the soft rustle of feathers cut him off. Flipping up onto his feet he reached for the small knife in his spine sheath.

"It's all right, Jazz," Prowl said softly. "And you're not carrying any weapons," he added just as Jazz's fingers closed on nothingness. The angry panic went out of him when he saw Prowl.

"What're you doing here?" Jazz asked, walking closer to him. He checked for his holster and found that missing as well. He couldn't feel any of his knives. Prowl's wings shimmered like mercury in the steady orb light, no cuts or healing wounds. "Your wings?" he whispered, starting to reach out and pulling back and the last second.

Prowl's wings spread to show they were indeed without marks. "My spirit is not harmed, only my physical body," he said, as if that was supposed to make sense. Jazz decided if Prowl was going to be in his messed up dreams that was probably the most logical response he was going to get. Prowl gave him a curious look that bordered on concern. "Why are you here, Jazz?"

Jazz cocked an optic ridge and realized he didn't have his visor on but the bright light wasn't hurting his optics. "Me? This is my dream. Why are _you_ here?" he asked as a joke, but he would rather it be Prowl standing in front of him than the Monster.

Prowl frowned a little and then his face cleared. "Ah, I see." He reached up and touched his chest over his spark. "You followed." He smiled one of his small smiles and beckoned for Jazz to follow. Jazz did as he was asked but with his own dose of confusion. But this was a better dream than he'd had in…a long time so he vowed not to question it too much.

The room of white stone stretched into a long hallway broken up by massive double doors. The first set they passed was made of dark brown wood that gleamed gold in the light. Engraved on the bottom half was a stone fireplace complete with flames so realistic Jazz thought he could feel the heat. A Praxian character he didn't know marked the top of the door.

"Hasu," Prowl said softly. "God of the hearth, home. He is the easiest to reach." Jazz glanced at him and then back at the door as they continued past. He wasn't sure what Prowl was talking about, but again didn't think too hard on the dream logic.

A few steps down on the other side of the hall a set of doors made of shades of blue stone reminded Jazz of the far southern coast of Polyhex. "I like that one," he said, slowing his steps to get a better look at the colors. He didn't see any sign of engravings on the doors, but he did see the doors weren't made of solid pieces of stone but thousands of small tiles seamlessly fit together. "Wow," he murmured.

Prowl continued walking but his soft laugh echoed through the hall. "Shizukesa, God of Peace, is a favorite for many, though His hall is more difficult to get into than Hasu's." Jazz left the door and caught up to him as they passed another. The white stone matched the hall but inlaid in gold was a picture of a flower beginning to open. "You've met Iyasu," Prowl said, nodding at the door. "Goddess of healing and rebirth."

Jazz frowned as he thought but the door and flower did seem familiar but he couldn't recall when he might have seen them before. He looked ahead once more when fog started to curl around his feet. "Prowl?" he asked softly. Ahead, the hallway became harder to see as the fog thickened but he could still see doors stretching down both sides. If there was an end to the hall, the fog obscured it.

Prowl paused in front of another set of doors, these black as night and with no apparent decoration. "Kanashimi," Prowl murmured. "Please, let me through." The fog thickened enough Jazz took two steps so he was within reach of Prowl. The black doors became harder to see. Prowl's wings lowered to the floor and he dropped to one knee. "I know he is out there, but I need more guidance."

Jazz flinched and a shudder went through him that seemed to shake the entire hallway. Prowl was up and in front of him in a blink. "Jazz?" His fingers gently brushed against his cheek sending sparks of electricity through him. He remembered a white hall. And a shadow, a shadow darker than even the Monster. The hallway shook again, the white walls from memory pushing in to the dream now. He remember Prowl standing in front of him, his frame in shades of grey and black. A shadow with wings that filled the entire hall.

"Prowl," he whispered. He remembered this feeling, the warm energy nipping him when Prowl was close. He leaned forward, because this was his dream and he was going to do what he wanted and pressed his lips against Prowl's.

Warmth and spark skipping energy washed through him. Prowl's fingers rested on his cheek sending shocks of static electricity through him. More than that he felt the fire and ice and steel that was Prowl wrapping around him. He felt brittle in comparison. There were places inside of him where shadows clung. Shadows and broken pieces, a mess.

Jazz sat up with a sharp gasp, frame shaking. Prowl whispered his name a second before he, too, sat up. Prowl's warm hand closed around his wrist. "Jazz—" Jazz didn't let him finish. His legs felt weak but he pushed up from the berth and walked to the door without looking back. Stepping outside on the deck he didn't hesitate before diving overboard. The cold water was a hard shock to his system, but it was everything he needed. This was real. The water. The cold. This was real. The moons shone bright overhead and the ferry chugged along, pulling away as he treaded water.

Prowl didn't follow him to the deck but he knew the Praxian was watching for him. Despite the cold water a warm imprint remained on his chest, right above his spark. His fingers and toes were starting to go numb, but that didn't diminish. He tried not to think about it as he started swimming after the ferry. He focused on his strokes and watching under him for any opportunistic predators that thought they had Poly on the menu. He didn't want to think about the weird dream or the sick feeling in his tanks. The cold water numbing his arms was real. The dream with Prowl was nothing. The imprint of warmth stayed on his chest. And if he slipped up and thought about it, it reminded him of Prowl and how very real the dream had felt.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Thank you for R/R/F/F!


	10. Chapter 10

Transcript #834

Moonracer

Session 78

Moonracer, always a pleasure, come on in and—

Thanks, Doc Bot! Scored a 99% on my accuracy test. Lil' Blue's still the only one who out shoots me. I dunno how the lil' mech does it. Y'know I asked him once how he got so good and he got this weird look on his face like he was sad or angry—I couldn't tell—and he said Prowl taught 'im. I guess I'd be a Pit of a shot, too, if Prowl was giving me lessons. He prob'ly makes the lil' mech shoot 'til his finger seizes up. (laughter)

Moonracer, a 99% is still incre—

Yeah, yeah, but Blue's got _100%_. That's incredible! Even in the field his accuracy only drops to a 98.5%. I'm a crack shot on the range, but you put me in a fire fight and—whoop!—there goes my accuracy. Drops all the way down to 93% or something obscene.

Honestly, Moonracer, that's still—

Y'know there's only one other 'bot in the whole history of the army with a score to match Bluestreak's? I looked it up one night 'cause everyone kept going on and on about how much of a prodigy he is—and you know I adore the lil' mech. If he was anything like Hot Rod I'da tossed him out an airlock a centicycle ago and been done with it. But anyway, lil' Blue's as sweet as they come. But I looked up the percentage one night, went as far back as records were kept, 'cause I was gonna show everyone you don't have to be a prodigy to get those numbers. Tell you what, I'm glad I didn't tell anyone what I was doin' 'cause I'da had to eat those words! You know who the only bot in the entire history of the army is to match Blue? _Prowl!_ So much for not needin' to be a prodigy, right! (laughter) But you gotta wonder, what's a desk sittin' tactician need with accuracy levels like that? Oh, that's my shift alarm, see ya' next time, Doc Bot! Oh, if you see Blue, tell 'im to come down to the firing range and we'll have a competition. Haven't seen the lil' bot since Prowl and Jazz up and disappeared, lil' guy's gotta be all kinds of worried.

—End Session—

As always, Moonracer fills her time with chatter that means very little when I sift through it. She uses rambling as an effective defense against any real conversations we might have. I haven't found a way to circumvent it, it's almost as difficult as talking to Prowl and his clever word play and silences. She has reminded me, though, that I haven't seen Bluestreak since Prowl left. I'll have to ask Bumblebee or First Aid if they've seen him, the young mech likely needs someone to talk to.


End file.
